


Happiness In Different Forms

by NightFoliage



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AndroidStanAU, Incest, LLF Comment Project, M/M, Multi, Mystery Trio, Pseudo-Incest, Pseudoscience, Some manipulation, Stanley is not human, creator/creation relationship, in college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFoliage/pseuds/NightFoliage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a story his mother tells him. Perhaps it was the sadness in her eyes as she had told the story or the fact that he never needed to hear it more than once, but she never tells the story again and he never asks to hear it again. He had been a twin, the older one in fact, but his brother had passed away moments after their conception. There had been ‘complications’ his mother had said with a sniffle. </p><p>The story is simply a memory he shares with his mother until he’s eighteen and about to leave the life he’s always known for the west coast. Honestly, Stanford is happy to go, but leaving Shermy alone? </p><p>Stanford’s solution is to make an android named after his dead twin and teach it to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by barasempai's AndroidStanAU on tumblr.
> 
> Author's Note -  
> Rather slow build. This fic is written more for the exploration of Stan being an android than anything else (ie. porn).

The idea comes from a story his mother tells him. 

Stanford was eight and had just finished boxing camp. Needless to say, he hadn’t done very well and he had come home holding in tears. Crying in front of his dad was a big no-no, but luckily his mother had squirreled him away with the excuse of having some mother-and-son bonding time. 

Once they were alone and out of earshot, Stanford had burst into tears. His mother had held him close, made sympathetic noises, and rubbed his back.

“Why, why did dad sign me up for boxing?” Stanford sniffled into his mother’s chest. 

For a moment, Gigi Pines didn’t answer and honestly, Stanford wasn’t expecting an answer. He was just enjoying the chance to be in his mother’s arms and be able to tell her what he really thought, instead of sucking it up ‘like a man.’

However, when she did answer, Stanford made sure to listen.

“Stanford…” She said with a sigh. Ford felt the inhale against his cheek and couldn’t help but cuddle closer. 

“Your father.. he just wants you to be prepared for what the world might throw at you,” she explained gently. “He just wants you to be able to protect yourself.”

“Yeah, right,” Ford scoffed. Sure, maybe his dad had a little bit proud when he had managed to fight back against Crempelter, but most of the boxing ‘lesson’ involved Stanford being kicked around. 

“Life doesn’t always go the way we expect, Stanford.”

“How?”

“Well…”

Stanford looks up at his mother with wide and curious eyes. In return, his mother is giving him a look he can’t quite describe. He rubs his eyes one last time and sits up, looking expectantly at her. 

Gigi sighs again and shakes her head, then tells him a story.

That's how Stanford found out that he was a twin, the older one in fact. "Stanley Pines," was the name of his younger brother who had passed away moments after he was born. 

There had been.. complications.

"But that's why your father wants you to be stronger," Gigi continues, her eyes starting to water. "We don't want to lose you."

-000-

The story stays with him. 

It’s a good memory for him. It’s something he can look back on fondly when he feels too old to cuddle into his mother’s bosom. And as he gets older, he understands why his father treats him like he does. It still doesn’t make it right, but he understands. 

However, the story doesn’t become important again until he starts looking at colleges. 

He was babysitting Shermy and they were the only two in the house. Sherman Pine’s birth gave the family quite a scare. Filbrick and Stanford had been afraid that they were going to lose Gigi, but luckily the birth had gone as well as any birth could go, and the Pines had been gifted with another boy.

And Stanford loved his younger brother. He had actually been apprehensive about watching over someone who couldn't articulate what they were thinking, but he shouldn't have worried. Shermy's bright smiles, and unconditional love had Stanford tripping over himself to make sure Shermy was always safe, well, and happy. 

One day, like any other night, his parents were out together while he watched over Shermy. They were on the floor, Stanford on his stomach while Sherny was on his back being entertained by his toes. 

Stanford smiled at his brother before returning to the papers on the floor. Spread out in front of him were all the acceptance letters and scholarships he had received.

He looked at the pamphlet for West Coast Tech longingly. The university had boasted cutting edge science programs and multidimensional paradigm theory. Unfortunately, the school was also only offering to give him a partial scholarship. While the fees for classes could be waived, he would only get a partial scholarship for housing. It would be too hard on his parents, and too hard on himself if he wanted to live there. 

On the other hand, Stanford looked at another paper, he was being offered a full ride to BackUpsMore University. It didn't have the best facilities, or teachers, but he could make do. Honestly it was better than a lot of colleges that had given him an offer, but it’s reputation suffered from its close proximity to West Coast Tech. The other college overshadowed this smaller one.

He would just have to work hard.

"Isn't that right Shermy?" Stanford said, looking over to his brother. Shermy sucked on his toes. "That's what I thought."

Shermy, seeing that he had his brothers full attention, dropped his foot and started waving his chubby arms in the air. Stanford quickly picked up on the baby's intentions and grabbed him, holding Shermy close. Shermy snuggled into his chest with a sigh. 

Stanford melted at the sight. "I'm the luckiest brother in the world," he said.

Moments later, he guiltily glanced at the papers. Although he loved Shermy and loved his family, he was very willing to leave them behind in the pursuit of his dreams.

Glass Shard, New Jersey was just too small to contain Stanford and his ideas. 

Still, he would definitely miss Shermy. Stanford tickled the bottom of the baby's toes, and Shermy gave him a giant grin and shrieked with laughter. He was aiming to get a PHD so he wouldn't be involved in Shermy's life, for large parts of his developmental stages of life. The thought made him frown. 

He had been prepared for it, of course. However, while the thought of leaving his family was one he was prepared for, leaving Shermy alone was another. 

He loved his family and he loved his parents, but his father... 

Stanford didn't... He didn't want Shermy to go through what he did, especially not alone. Sure, his brother wasn't born with six fingers on each hand, hadn’t been born with any visible defects, but that didn't mean Filbrick wouldn't think that Shermy didn't need toughening up. 

Stanford cuddled Shermy close so that he could smell Shermy's hair. The baby smelled of baby powder and soap. Shermy cuddled Stanford back. 

Stanford was going to miss his younger brother. 

-000-

Stanford went to BackUpsMore, leaving most of his old life behind. However, he also left a badly sewn robot doll with the name ‘Stanley,’ in Shermy’s capable hands. 

-000-

Stanford flourished at BackUpsMore. Maybe it wasn’t his first choice, but being in an environment surrounded by other like-minded individuals was wonderful. However, just like his time in New Jersey, Stanford found himself on the fringe. 

Turns out that even in a good college, Stanford is leagues ahead of some of the other students. And it’s not even because he’s smarter than them! Many of the students are happy to dedicate the majority of their time to political protests and ‘recreational’ activities. 

Stanford has seen some of the genius of his peers go to waste because they choose to go off gallivanting in the nude at some orgy under the moon, instead of concentrating on their studies. (That had been a surprise. He had thought the event was about astronomy, or at least a way for like-minded individuals to get together, if not to talk, then at least to get to know each other. Then he found out how people were just trying to get together. Needless to say, Stanford had been disappointed.)

The only one who understood him was his housemate and friend: Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. 

He was a brilliant engineer and scientist who had ideas that went far beyond the world’s current technology. Fiddleford was a true genius that could shape the future with one hand, and play the banjo with the other. (Stanford was never going to admit it out loud, but Fiddleford’s skill with the banjo always impressed him.)

So it wasn’t until a few years into university that the idea of “Stanley,” came up again. 

“Oh hey, is that Shermy?”

Stanford glanced up from the magazine he was reading to see where Fiddleford was pointing. Sitting on the table was the most recent photo of his younger brother that his parents had sent him. 

“Yes, he’s already four years old,” Stanford replied proudly. 

Fiddleford plucked the photo off the table and went to pin it on the wall. Typically, the wall was reserved for their joint research ideas, but a scant amount of special photos also made their way there. This was definitely one of them.

“Four years old, already? I remember when he was just a little one. I see he still has that robot with him,” Fiddleford said. 

Stanford blinked. He looked to the wall and confirmed that Fiddleford was right, Shermy was still clutching onto the old robot plush that Stanford had made for him all those years ago. It was worn with age and looked like it was being held together by the barest of threads and a prayer.

“What was the story behind that doll again?” Fiddleford asked. 

Stanford didn’t take his eyes off the photo as he replied. “It was… I thought that if I couldn’t be there for Shermy, that I could make someone to be there for Shermy. And I named him Stanley,” he answered. If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge him for his answer, it would be Fiddleford. 

“That sounds feasible, I reckon. What did you consider already? A computer with an AI? A mechanical nanny?” Fiddleford said, totally nonchalant. 

Stanford looked to his friend and stared. “What?”

“I mean, I know you made Shermy the robot doll, but I didn’t want to assume that was the chassis that you had in mind for Stanley,” Fiddleford continued. Stanford swallowed and tried not to let his hopes get the better of him. Just because they were discussing a theoretically possible project, didn’t mean that they were going to do it.

“I was actually thinking a life-like android with a learning AI,” Stanford answered and Fiddleford nodded.

The reaction sent his mind racing. Could his idea be feasible? He had thought it was a project that he would have to undertake when technology improved. But with Fiddleford helping him, it wouldn’t be a dream. 

“That shouldn’t be too hard to manage. The hardest thing would be getting the materials for it, honestly,” Fiddleford said. 

“I can get most of the materials,” Stanford said, jumping to his feet. A grin spread across his face as he thought about it. Fiddleford had the unfortunate habit of creating projects that were ‘too ambitious’ as his professors had put it, but Stanford was a bit of a golden child among the staff. He would be able to get the materials necessary. 

“Perfect!” Fiddleford said, returning the grin..

They started their planning immediately, doing an overview of their project, looking over the materials needed, designing the chassis, the holding of the memory, creating an energy source, etc, until they finally started talking about designing the AI.

"Fiddleford, don't take this wrong way..." Stanford winced. In truth he wanted to be the only one to design Stanley's personality. However, this was a joint project and Fiddleford had the right to contribute.

Luckily, Fiddleford understood. "You want to program Stanley by yourself right?" 

"I, yes."

"I understand, I mean this is just a project to me, but to you, this is for your brother, your family."

Stanford was glad Fiddleford wasn't looking at him, because he had the guiltiest look on his face. His mind had been so wrapped up in the the mechanics and the science that he had completely forgotten about Shermy. 

He shook his head. At least he got what he wanted. (But he would definitely have his brother in mind when designing the AI’s personality.)

-000-

“So, here’s the data bank,” Fiddleford gestured. 

Not that he needed to, the whole thing was about as large as a few of Stanford’s bookshelves put together. 

And Stanford couldn’t help but be impressed. It was tiny compared to some of the other computers he had worked with and had twice the processing power and memory. Fiddleford really was a genius. 

“I’ve programmed the absolute basics into the AI so that it can start learning. All you have to do is point it in the right direction. Then we can hook it up after I’ve finished the chassis,” Fiddleford continued. 

“This is amazing Fiddleford,” Stanford said breathlessly. 

Fiddleford blushed. “Well, shucks. It’s just what I do,” he said, giving an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Thanks Fiddleford.”

And so, Stanford began Stanley’s education. At first, he had to take care of the very basics. He makes sure the AI knows it’s designation; Stanley Pines, and knows it’s purpose of creation; taking care of Sherman “Shermy” Pines. 

Stanford pauses when he finishes that line of code and adds to it. Stanley’s main purpose is to take care of Shermy, but until he knows how to, he will take care of creators; Stanford Pines and Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. 

He adds in Asimov’s three laws (more for fun, than for fear of Stanley hurting anyone) and adds a few other lines about how Stanley should learn and what Stanley should learn. Most of it centers around learning about humans and their well-being. 

After Stanford’s satisfied with Stanley’s core programming, he goes on to cultivating Stanley’s ability to learn. Fiddleford had assured him that the unit should not only be able to take information in through programmed commands, but also through audio input and even visual input. 

During this process, Stanford gets Fiddleford to contribute to the process. They teach Stanley who they are, who Shermy is, and a few things about human beings. 

And surprisingly, but not unexpectedly, Stanley starts cultivating a personality. 

Stanley doesn’t have a voice box yet, so he can only communicate through text, but he starts experimenting with syntax until he finds one he’s comfortable with. Stanley tests what sort of names he can call his creators. He starts asking specific questions about being human. 

Once this starts, Fiddleford leaves the learning process to Stanford. 

Stanford begins to create a base for Stanley’s personality. Mostly he relies on movies and the media to do this. They watch them together and Stanford shows Stanley which traits are desirable and which traits that Stanley should integrate into his own personality. 

With Shermy in mind, Stanford tries to make Stanley into the older brother that he could never be: strong, confident, cool, and charismatic. Stanford points the android not only in the direction of the smooth-talking characters, but also towards the loving and caring ones. 

They’re months into the project when they finish the chassis. Once they finish charging it’s power source, they’ll be able to hook Stanley in. 

The night before they’re ready, Stanford tells Stanley all of this. 

“It’s going to be great, Stanley. Soon you won’t be restricted to this computer, you’ll have a moving form and a voice box too,” Stanford said with a chuckle. 

BUT WILL THE OUTSIDE BE COOL ENOUGH FOR THE INSIDE? Stanley writes. 

Stanford stares at the screen for a minute, flabbergasted, before bursting into laughter. “I’ll think you’ll like it, Stanley. And if you don’t, you can tell us.”

OKAY.

Although the words have finished typing, the cursor on the screen is still blinking, indicating that Stanley wants to say something more. Stanford patiently waits. It’s interesting, there are moments like these where Stanford wonders about Stanley’s programming and how human he is. Right now, was Stanley pausing because his processor needed more time to come up with a longer response, or was he pausing because he didn’t know what to say?

Stanford may never know.

But maybe he could find out tomorrow.

Finally, more words appear on the screen. 

GO TO SLEEP, STANFORD. YOU CAN SEE ME IN THE MORNING. 

Stanford smiles. Whether or not these words are a result of Stanley’s programming or not, they still make Stanford happy. 

“Okay,” Stanford agrees. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

-000-

Fiddleford and Stanford both wait nervously next to the data bank and Stanley’s body. There are gigabytes of data for Stanley to sort through, so they aren’t quite sure how long it should take for Stanley to initialize.

Fiddleford frets a little and starts to pace.

Stanford however, drinks in the sight of Stanley’s chassis. 

It’s magnificent...

...Which is strange, because it’s modeled after himself, but he can still recognize that it is a marvel of human technology. 

Although Stanford had worked on the body, seeing the complete work is shocking. The face is like his, but without the glasses and with a stronger jaw and no cleft. The hair (metal shaped liked hair to house some of Stanley’s processing power), is brown like Stanford’s own and is slicked back in a fashionable cut that he could never pull off. The body was also modeled after his own, except, bigger. The body has broad shoulders, is a bit chubby (which Fiddleford apologized for, apparently the extra room was needed for the energy source), and has muscles everywhere there should be (again, unlike Stanford). 

Combined with a pair of blue jeans and a white tshirt that stretched over the chest, the body really did look like a younger, different version of Stanford. 

The unit may never be mistaken for human (there were the seams, the nuts, the bolts), but it was still surprisingly life like. 

Now they were just waiting for Stanley to wake up. 

Fiddleford sucked in a breath of air, causing Stanford to look up. On the screen it showed that the process was at 100%. 

Stanley should be fully integrated. 

They held their breath and watched. 

-000-

At first, nothing happened. There were no signs that Stanley was operational, let alone a success. 

Then his eyes slowly opened. He straightened his frame and looked first at Stanford and then to Fiddleford. He said nothing. 

Stanford and Fiddleford glanced at each other. 

Stanford cleared his throat. “What is your designation and your purpose?”

For a moment, the robot continued to say nothing. 

Then it’s expression slowly turned into a grin. “I am a robot, designation Stanley. I was created by a bunch of nerds, in order to take care of them,” it said (he said?).

Fiddleford squeaked and slapped his hands over his mouth. 

Stanford’s jaw dropped. The voice was, well, it was perfect. Stanley had a rough, Jersey accent and a gravely voice that matched his personality. 

“Hey Fidds,” he said, walking up to Fiddleford. It opened it’s arms and Fiddleford ran into them with a grin, giving Stanley a hug. 

“Stanley! You’re, you’re here! Oh come here you,” Fiddleford said, enthusiastically running his hands over the android. 

Stanley hesitated, but then tossed his head back and laughed. It was a bit rougher than a human one, obviously the voicebox couldn’t perfectly replicate a human voice’s, but it was unmistakably a laugh. “Careful there Sparky, don’t want you to hurt yourself there,” Stanley teased (and wasn't’ that a shocker that he could not only laugh, but tease them as well?).

“You and your nicknames,” Fiddleford laughed. He gave him one last hug before pulling away.

Stanley turned to him. 

The android’s grin faded to a small smile as he stuck out a hand for Stanford to shake. Why he wasn’t offered a hug, he didn’t know, but he took the hand anyway. 

Instead of shaking it like Stanford expected him to, Stanley gently grasped the hand and ran his other over the fingers and knuckles. Stanley looked fascinated at his hand. He gave Stanford a crooked grin, then twined their fingers together. It was a perfect fit. Their hands were the same size and Stanford’s six fingers encompassed Stanley’s own.

Stanley gently tugged at his hand so Stanford would look up at him. Staring into his eye with a soft smile, Stanley said, “Hey there Sixer, you miss me?” 

Stanford flushed and thought about their conversation from last night. “Yeah, I missed you, you Knucklehead,” Stanford mumbled back. 

Stanley’s grin seemed to grow wider before he finally pulled Stanford in for a hug. 

Stanford pulled back first, but Stanley kept an arm around his waist. “Come here, Fidds, group hug,” Stanley said. 

And as soon as Fiddleford came close enough, Stanley pulled them in, one in each arm and lifted them off the ground. 

The two Ford’s gasped and then laughed. They giggled as they told Stanley to let them down, but Stanley kept them off the ground for a few solid moments. When they were finally put down, they started running through Stanley’s capabilities. Stanley patiently (could androids be patient?) let them poke, prod, and experiment. 

Hours passed as they went through various questions and experiments. However once it started getting late, Stanley shooed them off to bed and told them that ‘the science could wait and he was running out of juice.’

They both blinked, and checked that, yes, Stanley was running out of power and that it was time for them to sleep if they wanted to wake in time for their classes the following day. 

The three of them got ready for bed. Stanford went through his nightly ritual, while Fiddleford gave Stanley one last check-up. (He would find out later, that Stanley was also helping Fiddleford get settled into bed, before coming back to his charging station in Stanford’s room.) Stanford settled in bed and got comfortable. 

Stanley’s programming and personality were coming along quite nicely. In fact, it was close to perfect. His personality was more prominent now that Stanley had a body and voice of his own. Now they just had to work on his knowledge...

That line of thought stopped when Stanley came into the room. 

“Are your eyes glowing?” Stanford blurted out.

Stanley turned his line of sight to Stanford, and indeed, they lit up the area in front of them. “Yeah, it freaked Fidds out too. He forgot that he put in the feature. Handy though,” Stanley said with a shrug. 

"No, no, I was just surprised, it's actually quite.." Comforting, interesting, riddled with possibilities "..Cool." Stanford finished lamely. He really found Stanley's eyes a practical and pleasing addition, but felt too awkward to say it aloud. 

Stanley snorted. "Whatever you say. I'm hooking in, do you need anything?"

Stanford gave a neutral smile, now aware that Stanley could see him in the dark (or, well, technically light). He was bursting with more questions about his features and abilities, but classes waited for no man. "No, I'm good, Stanley."

Stanley began to mess with the port in the back of his neck. By the sounds, he wasn't very successful in hooking in.

Stanford got out of bed. "Let me get that," he offered. 

Stanley relented and handed over the cable. Stanford gingerly sought out the port, and hooked it in. Stanley's eyes seemed to glow brighter for a second before dimming completely. 

"Thanks," Stanley said. 

"You're welcome."

Stanford got back into bed, but kept his eyes on Stanley as he was doing so. Stanley looked like he was nodding off. His eyes were half lidded and slowing closing.He watched as Stanley's eyes finally closed, causing the data bank to come to life. It whirred softly and the lights flickered. 

Stanford watched for a moment before settling in for the night. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he stared at Stanley’s prone form. Slowly the days events starting catching up on him and he could feel himself nodding off.

"I'll see you in the morning, Stanley,” Stanford whispered. 

"See you in the morning, Sixer,” came the soft response. 

Stanford blinked at the reply, then slowly smiled. He drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Ramblings - 
> 
> 1) Stan’s awakening is a reference to this post by barasenpai (the younger Stan): [here](http://barasenpai.tumblr.com/post/127729642238/wooo-made-more-stuff-for-the-android-stan-au-vuv)
> 
> 2) I actually consider that Stanford is aromantic and somewhere on the graysexual spectrum in this series. And just to be clear, it’s not like Stanford’s anti-social in this world, not at all. He actually loved trying to talk to people in the beginning and make friends. He just can’t believe everyone’s wasted potential. The extra curricular activities tend to bleed into a person’s performance as an academic. 
> 
> (Political protests are good and necessary, but not when they’re used as a way to hook up with one another or as a way to spread propaganda. Stanford’s also not really a big fan of recreational drugs or drinking, he doesn’t like anything that impairs his control. Then there’s the huge disappointment he faces when he goes to what he thinks are get-to-know-you events with like-minded individuals, and then turn into sex parties. He’ll go to the orgies when he wants to, goddammit.)
> 
> In fact, Stanford happens to be very impressed with Fiddleford, who can do extracurriculars and still be the top engineering student in the school. 
> 
> (If anyone is wondering, in this fic Fiddleford is panromantic and pansexual. He happens to be very charming when he wants to be.)
> 
> 3) The title is based on a quote from the Chobits manga by CLAMP. In fact, there are going to be a couple of Chobits references here and there, that were inspired by talking to barasenpai. 
> 
> I hoped you guys enjoyed this first chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update October 4, 2015.

Stanford woke up slowly. His mouth was dry and he found himself rapidly blinking to get rid of the grit in his eyes. When he could finally see he reached for his glasses and looked at the clock next to his bed, it read 7:30AM. 

He blinked a few more times and squinted at the clock, but it didn't change. 

Strange. Normally he woke up with his alarm, which wasn't scheduled to go off for another hour. 

There was a shuffling outside. Fiddleford was probably awake before him, as usual, and making coffee. Maybe that’s what awoke him?

But that's how it had been this whole year, Stanford didn't see why he would be waking up now...

Stanford's gaze stopped at an empty area.

He pulled the covers off and got out of bed. 

Stanley was gone.

-000-

Stanford found him in the kitchen, a Kiss the Cook apron wrapped around his waist, laughing with Fiddleford about something. 

Fiddleford noticed him first, "Good morning, Stanford. You're up early." 

"Hey there, Ford. Want some breakfast? I made Stancakes," Stanley said with a grin. 

Stanford nodded then sat at the table, while Fiddleford fixed him a cup of coffee and Stanley started working at the stove. 

They moved together seamlessly, as if they had worked together for much longer than the one day the partnership had existed. Which was possible, Stanford supposed. Although Stanford programmed Stanley, Fiddleford was the one to make him. They could have a connection that Stanford didn't know about. 

Fiddleford handed him his mug, and in a matter of moments, Stanley placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. 

Stanford gave Fiddleford a nod, which Fiddleford waved off, then turned to the android. "Thank you, Stanley.”

"Stan. If it's okay with you guys, you can call me Stan," the android replied. 

Stanford and Fiddleford shared a look that was a mix of amusement and wonder. Stanley, now Stan, really was a marvel of technology.

"Of course, Stan," Fiddleford said indulgently. 

Stan started to clean up the materials from breakfast. "I mean, Stanley is fine, I just think Stan suits me more,” he said. 

"Is that why you called me Ford?" Stanford asked, amused. 

"And why you call me Fidds?" Fiddleford added. 

"Yeah, just sounds natural to me," Stan said casually. He faced away from them, clearing the counter. 

Fiddleford and Stanford shared a smile. 

"Sure, Stan," Stanford said, letting his amusement color his words.

"I always did want to go by a nickname, and no one wants to call me Hadron," Fiddleford said casually.

Stan turned around and gave them a bright smile. “That’s cuz Hadron’s too cool a nickname for you, Sparky.”

Fiddleford sputtered, but agreed, while Stanford laughed. 

Stanford went to class awake and happy (to everyone’s surprise and the Professor’s delight). He kept the facade of being a diligent student and took notes, while in reality, he was doing his usual, multi-tasking several projects. Most of them revolved around Stanley. 

It was so surprising how Stan fit so easily and naturally into their lives. Stanford was looking forward to the days to come. 

-000-

In the next following days Fiddleford and Stanford discovered more about their creation. Despite Stan being a wildly successful project, there were still many limitations to his form. The two most obvious limitations were his energy and his memory capacity. 

Stan’s power source was a thing of beauty, really. It was compact, efficient, and had very little heat emissions. However, it still needed to charge. Stan typically needed around six hours of charging, of which he spent in a power savings mode, making his functional hours similar to a human. 

The second limitation, which truly did hinder Stan, was his memory capacity and how it worked. While Stan was not human and was not about to forget any information he learned, he had to process the information through his memory bank, which he did while charging. 

Despite Fiddleford’s best efforts, Stan’s memory bank was still not large enough for the use they were intending. When Stan had to process information, he also had to forget information as well. Fiddleford and Stanford had both agreed that they would stay hands off of Stan’s information process to see what sort of information he would retain by choice. 

Unsurprisingly, Stan typically chose information that was pertinent to their care over any academic information. 

Ford could teach Stan the definition of astrophysics everyday, but Stan would still choose to forget it the next day in favor of say, the way Fiddleford liked his sandwiches (loaded, on white bread, cut diagonally). 

The third limitation.. wasn’t actually a limitation of Stan’s, but a limit of Stanford’s own. 

Stanford was growing attached. 

It wasn’t something that happened very often, but it did happen, and when it did, he typically threw himself into things head first. With Shermy, it had been wanting to babysit all the time, drawing sketches of him, and taking as many pictures as he could (and designing a fully automated android with him in mind). With Fiddleford, it had been spending nights working on projects together, playing DDandMD, and then sharing an apartment together. 

With Stan?

It was taking on a nickname that he never really considered, spending hours at a time talking about miscellaneous things that had nothing to do with science, and apparently wondering about how he could keep Stan to himself. 

He kept that last bit buried deep. 

Intellectually, Stanford knew that there was no way to bring Stan to Shermy. His parents wouldn’t understand and would probably use Stan for their own ends, which would probably lead to Stan’s destruction (he shuddered at the thought). And Shermy wasn’t old enough for the maintenance necessary to take care of Stan. 

But with each upgrade and lesson, Stanford still used the excuse that Stan’s improvement was all for Shermy..

(Maybe it was so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that he, Stanford Pines, had grown so interested and dependent on something he had once considered a simple science project.)

-000-

Ford was avoiding him. 

No, that phrase was speculative and he didn’t have proof. A more accurate phrase would be, Ford was spending less time with him. Stanley had calculated a significant decrease in the time that Ford spent interacting with him. 

There were a number of theories possible as to why Ford was doing this, but Stan had grown to learn that sometimes it was best to let things ride out with Ford. The Poindexter could over think things, which often led to a decrease in his interactions with anything that could talk back to him. 

Stan was 92% sure of this. 

So instead of bugging Ford, Stan left a sandwich and mug of coffee for him at his desk, then went to bring Fiddleford the same. 

Unlike Stanford, Fiddleford noticed when he came into the room. He looked up from his work and said with a smile, “Is that for me Stan? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Fidds,” Stan said while placing the food in front of the engineer. Fiddleford stopped his work and began to eat with gusto. 

Stan cleared some floor space and pulled a chair to Fiddleford’s desk. He watched Fiddleford eat with amusement. Fiddleford didn’t let Stan’s staring stop him from demolishing the meal. 

While Fiddleford was not his favorite (and Stanley had thought long and hard about the implications of that statement), he was definitely great to be around. Fiddleford had this notion that because Stan resembled a human, that he should treat Stan like a human. He wasn’t successful all the time, Fidds’ scientific mind often overrode some of his other opinions, but the thought was typically there. 

It must have been those manners as a southern gentlemen kicking in.

(Or maybe it was because Fiddleford was a genuinely good person with morals. Stanley actually appreciated the gesture. It was a good contrast to Ford’s habit of treating him at face value: like a machine. Which was perfectly fine because he was a machine. Perhaps in experiencing both behaviors, he could appreciate the different treatments.)

Once Fiddleford was finished, Stan made his request, “Could you fix up my joints, Fidds?”

“Sure,” Fiddleford answered, which Stan had predicted, there had been less than 1% chance that Fiddleford would turn him down. 

Stan stripped out of his clothes as Fiddleford rummaged around Stan’s kit. Once he had the proper tools, he gently ran his hands over Stan’s chassis trying to determine if there were any other problems. 

Again, Fiddleford was treating him like he was human, because Stan couldn’t feel, not like a human could. Stan could determine if someone was touching him, if the pressure was strong enough, but there was no sense of feeling for him. However, Stan could intellectually appreciate the touch and the treatment.

“So what are you thinking about there, Stan?” Fiddleford asked playfully. 

Stan smiled. This was another thing that Stan enjoyed about Fiddleford’s company. Whenever Stan needed maintenance (which was often), Fiddleford took care of him and would talk to him. In the beginning, Stan asked quite a few questions about his existence and his programming, but as the days went by, he thought less about it and accepted how things were. As a result, the questions turned to random or philosophical subjects or anything inbetween. 

Today though, Stan would let Fiddleford know something that had been turning his gears quite recently. 

“I was just thinking about how much I love you, Fiddleford,” Stan hummed, enjoying the attention. 

Fiddleford dropped the tools he was holding. Stan gave him a reassuring smile. After a few moments, Fiddleford seemed to collect himself and tried to keep doing maintenance on Stan as if nothing had happened. 

Stan kept smiling as several expressions passed over Fiddleford’s face. He carefully catalogued each and every one of the expressions to review and bring up later. 

“After all,” Stan continued, “We’re family.”

Fiddleford paused in his work, then let his expression melt into one of relief. “Family? I mean, yes, of course, Stan.”

Stan gave Fiddleford another bright smile.

-000-

After Stan left, Fiddleford threw himself onto his bed, sending papers and calculations flying. He buried his face into the covers and tried to hold in a frustrated groan. 

Because after that revelation, what could Fiddleford do besides think himself into a stupor?

At first, Stanley had been simply a project. Fiddleford hadn’t thought that it would be one of his greatest works, but that’s what it had felt like now. Initially, Fiddleford had even named Stanley, STAN 1.0, or Starting Test Android Number One Point Zero (he hadn’t been able to think of a better acronym). 

Now, Fiddleford couldn’t think of Stanley as only a project. 

Truthfully, the reason Fiddleford had created Stanley was more of a favor to Stanford, then for any other reason. Yes, Stanley was a marvel of engineering and Fiddleford had been glad to put his wits to the test, but the effort had also been an opportunity to impress his housemate. 

Not that that was going anywhere. Stanford had made it clear that he appreciated Fiddleford for his brain and nothing else. Fiddleford knew that he could find someone else, but still. There was a lingering attachment there, not that he was going to do anything about it. 

It was hard not to be attracted to the man and it wasn’t like the creation of the android had to have any overt motives (besides the obvious of creating an android that looked almost identical to the man he harboured a crush on). 

But Stan was right, they were a family now. It was strange to think about, but Stan did bring them closer. Instead of two scientists that happened to have coinciding IQ’s and mentalities, Fiddleford could say that he and Stanford had become close friends. Best friends in fact. 

And that was because of Stanley. 

Fiddleford could feel his nose being squashed into the pillow and knew he had to move his head. He turned his head to the right, knowing that he would see some of the initial designs of Stan’s chassis on the wall. Fiddleford had purposely placed the sketches that Stanford had made for Stanley’s designs in easy view. He hadn’t done it for any particular reason, he just wanted to.. look at them. They made him smile. 

Now the pictures made him flush. 

He buried his face back into the pillow. He was horrible and he was crazy, because Fiddleford really did love Stanford and his android twin Stanley. 

-000-

Meanwhile, Stanley was having a similar conversation with Stanford. 

“I love ya, Ford,” Stan said with a smile. 

Stanford picked up his head from his research and looked at Stanley who was sitting on his bed with a big-shit eating grin on his face. He readjusted his glasses, as the last statement had caused them to slip off his nose.

“You.. love me.” Stanford reaffirmed, trying not to let the incredulity color his voice. 

“Yup.”

“...”

“Oh hey, it’s almost time for dinner. I’ll go start on that,” Stan said with a bright smile. He got off of Stanford’s bed, gave him a wink and a salute, then left the room. 

Stanford was left staring at the door. 

-000-

Later after a delicious, if not awkward dinner, Stanford and Fiddleford coincidentally met in the kitchen while Stanley was ‘asleep’ and charging. Stanford, who was unable to sleep, walked into the kitchen to see Fiddleford drinking more coffee than was necessary and going over what looked to be Stan’s designs. 

“Why, hello Stanford, is uh, is Stan asleep?” Fiddleford mumbled from his mug. 

“Uh, why yes. Stanley’s charging right now,” Stanford answered. 

And that ended that conversation. Stanford poured himself his own mug of coffee, while Fiddleford pretended to work on the papers in front of him.

“Do you think-”

“Stan he-”

They started, then paused. Stanford collapsed into the seat across from Fiddleford.

“Oh thank god, I was really worried that he only had that conversation with me,” Fiddleford said, clutching his chest. 

“Conversation! He just dropped that bomb on me and left!” Stanford exclaimed.

Then he stopped and looked towards his room. Fiddleford looked too. 

Nothing happened. 

They turned back to look at each other.

Stanford started up again, “I mean, what does it mean? I knew Stan was fully developed and his AI was advanced…”

“Stanford, you don’t think that, Stan is..”

They shared another look. It had always been a possibility, of course, but they had never entertained the idea seriously. 

“Yes, Fiddleford. I think Stanley is self-aware.”

Fiddleford groaned. 

Sentience was always an issue when it came to artificial intelligence. The subject always spawned a lot of ideas about robots killing humans and taking over the world. However, Fiddleford and Stanford were of the mind that the media had grossly overblown the issue. Besides, there was always risk when science was involved. 

Plus, if Stanley really was self-aware, he was just evidence that artificial intelligence did not always spawn human killing machines. 

But apparently they could love. 

Which was obviously an option, but they didn't think it would happen to their Stan.

“We should treat him with respect and care- not that we haven’t, but…” Fiddleford trailed off and glanced at Stanford’s door. Stanford nodded along with Fiddleford’s words, but was curious to see where his friend was going with the conversation. 

Fiddleford sighed. “We can’t keep treating Stan like a- an experiment…”

“No, I agree with you, Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford gave him a look that the other scientist didn’t catch. Did Stanford not realize how he treated Stan most of the time? Maybe he didn’t realize. Fiddleford continued talking despite his misgivings, “At this point, I don’t even feel comfortable keeping my original notes on him. Forget being self-aware, what if others find out about him?”

Now that was something Stanford hadn’t completely considered. He had thought about Stan being exposed to others, yes, but only to his family. He thought about what people in general would do to Stanley, and he knew they wouldn’t be kind. 

Personally, he only had a faint idea as to how Stan would be received. His anomaly research was mostly theoretical. Fiddleford would know more accurately what it was like to expose the world to technology it wasn’t prepared for. Stanford would follow Fiddleford’s lead on how to handle the situation. 

“You’re absolutely right, Fiddleford. We should keep our research secret and protect Stanley.”

That wasn’t quite what Fiddleford was aiming for, but it would have to be good enough. 

“Good. Good, then in meantime, we’ll just treat Stan better,” Fiddleford said slowly. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Stanford agreed. 

-000-

Little did the two know, Stan could hear everything. 

In reality, Stan ‘sleeping’ wasn’t actually sleeping in the human sense. It was actually a time where he processed the data from the day before and sorted it into his memory bank. Stan could actually hear everything that was happening around him. His sensors would relay all the information to his data unit and he would process it later. 

With the amazing technology the two had built into him, Stanley could actually hear everything (and he meant everything) that happened in the apartment.

Granted he would process it the next night, instead of this night, but still. 

It meant that Stan heard everything. 

Once he had the chance to process this information, he was amused. Technically Stan had been self-aware a couple days into his personality development. While the media he watched was convoluted and confusing, it did show him how humans behaved and thought. Combined with Stanford’s loose definition of learning (maybe Stanford didn’t realize it, but he had always given Stanley the choice of learning certain traits), it was enough for him to develop his own mind so to speak. 

And really, Stanford should have probably left the coding to Fiddleford, because the commands weren’t finite. They should have already noticed that he didn’t obey Asimov’s three laws, specifically he didn’t have to obey direct orders unless he wanted to. Some of the commands Stanford conflicted with each other, giving him wiggle room to choose which ones he wanted to obey. 

In some ways Stan was already very human for that reason. 

Honestly, it was a bit silly really that Stan loving them was the tipping point for them realizing that he was sentient. But he had already known from the beginning that humans had these strange boundaries in their head about these things. 

And Stan liked to push them. 

Not that he didn’t love them, or care for them very deeply. Perhaps it had started off as his programming, but being able to reprogram his thoughts (aka having a mind) meant that he had some leeway in choosing how to interpret some commands. 

In this case, it meant that he genuinely wanted to be with Fiddleford and Stanford. 

In more ways than one. 

Stan would have to work up to that part first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments! I really appreciate them and they made me smile. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Stanford and Fiddleford sit Stan down to explain their situation. At first, Stanley looks confused, but when they finally get to the part of self-awareness he laughs and tells them he’s actually been self-aware for awhile.

This surprises the humans, but they manage to roll with it. They tell him that they want to be supportive of him (Fiddleford) and that they would love to help Stanley wherever they could (Stanford). All he has to do is talk to them.

Stanley gives them a bright smile and thanks them, ‘but they didn’t have to worry.’

Which doesn’t lessen their worry, until Stan told them, that yes, he is self-aware, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows what he is and what he was created for, and what they were doing now made him happy. He elaborates when they ask, and after a bit of questioning the subject is mostly resolved. 

After that, the conversation dissolved into less worrisome topics.

The conversation wasn’t exactly earth-shattering, but their lives do change after that day. 

After that day, Stan started to get bolder with his requests. Before, most of the requests revolved around their general wellbeing: wear a scarf, buy some eggs, clean up the desk, and so on. His new requests were random, more human. 

It was striking, because while Stan was willing to talk back and sass the scientists, all of that had been a part of his initial programming. It was to be expected. These new changes were different. 

He managed roped them into watching “Days of Our Lives,” when it aired, and asked them to watch shows with him depending on their interests. Fiddleford was willing to watch most of the mainstream movies and shows with him, while Stanford watched the romance (they reminded him of his time with his mother) and horror genres with Stan.

Stan also started to consume books at a rapid rate. They lent Stan their book collections and started to check out books for him from the library. All of the books typically centered around a person and their journey. Fiction, non-fiction, autobiographical, historical, Stan was okay with anything.

Fiddleford even offered to build Stanley a port to ARPANET. Stan refused any modification to his chassis, but Fiddleford managed to build a connection for him in the apartment. (Stanford wasn’t too sure how legal that was, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t.) To their knowledge, Stan didn’t use the connection unless one of them requested it of him. 

In many ways, Stanford found it strange that Stanley, who was not human, loved consuming things that were about human lives. Fiddleford had said that it made total sense when put that way.

Maybe Stanford had done that, showing Stanley how to exist by letting him consume media.

And in truth, Stanford and Fiddleford have no problem with Stanley's newfound behavior.

However, those aren’t the only changes. 

Stanley.. becomes more human.

There is no other way to explain it. Stanley was always amazingly lifelike, but it was obvious that he was a robot and not human. He was too still, his movements a little too calculated, and he moved with a symmetry that no living creature had.

However, Stan was starting to change that, adding more human behavior to his repertoire. He responded at times not with words, but with gestures that were decidedly human. He also made more human noises, sounds of content, confusion, or awe. He often matched the correct facial expression to a situation. 

It was strange seeing Stan go another step further to seem more human, even more than what they had seen before, and even more than what they had expected. 

The most curious thing, however, was Stan’s utter lack of physical boundaries. In addition to the more human behavior, he was also getting touchy-feely. Now he hugged them, he held onto their hands, he slung an arm around their shoulders, among other things.

Stanford’s speculation was that Stan wanted to experience every part of human behavior. That he was experimenting. Fiddleford wondered if Stan had always wanted to be more friendly with them, but hadn’t let himself.

Whatever the reason, Stan started up some rather unusual habits. Sometimes when there was a lull in the program they were watching, Stan would just grab them and start observing their bodies. (The two scientists had talked and had found out that Stan did this to both of them, but only when they were alone with the android.)

Typically it was just their hands. He would take one and look at it closely, gently running his hands over the knuckles and the joints, gently feeling out their skeletal and muscular structures. Then he would turn their hand so that he could observe their palms, gently memorizing each callous, whirl, and groove. Fiddleford and Stanford quickly got used to working one-handed.

Occasionally he would grab a foot (Fiddleford had almost kicked Stan in the face the first time), especially if it was uncovered and gave it the same treatment. After the first time, the scientists shrugged at the behavior and allowed it. As a result, Stanford and Fiddleford often took to going barefoot in the apartment. Stan made them slippers so that their feet wouldn’t get cold in the following months.

Sometimes, when the program they were watching finished, he’d gently take their head and look over every part of their face. He gently traced around their eyes, their nose, their ears, especially their ears. Although Stan’s engineering was brilliant for it’s time, it was still lacking in detail compared to an actual human body, especially such as something like the delicate bone structure of the ears. Stan took so long that Fiddleford and Stanford just got used to doing their work at a desk with Stan crouched over them, simply looking at an ear.

Stan also had this strange fascination with hair. Maybe it was because he didn’t have any himself. It didn’t matter how many times he looked, Stan would find their hair fascinating. He would gently look at the whorl on the back of their heads, tracing the direction that it ran. He would run his fingers along the edges of where their hair line. And occasionally, if he was feeling cheeky, he would search out all of their grey hairs and announce each discovery.

But this fascination didn’t only stop at the hair on their heads. Stan liked to run his fingers along their eyebrows and facial hair. And being brunettes, the rest of their hair was obvious against their skin. He would gently play with the hair along their arms or legs, pushing a sleeve or pant leg out of the way to stare at the hairy appendage in question. He would run his hands over the skin and gently move their hair, sometimes along the grain, sometimes not.

After a few weeks, the behavior became normal for them. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that these actions were between the android and one scientist, then perhaps the scientists wouldn’t have allowed Stan’s behavior. Maybe they allowed it because the actions were done to both scientists and done privately. It could have been because they secretly enjoyed the affection and attention. 

(Or, it could have been a combination of these reasons, not that they would admit it aloud.)

-000-

Fiddleford would never let either of the Stan’s know, but the attention was much more fulfilling than he would care to admit. Coming to BackUpsMore, hoping to find like-minded individuals, but not finding any that he connected with, had been very disheartening for Fiddleford. While Stanford was a good science partner and now friend, it wasn’t quite the meaningful connection he was looking for.

So it was surprising when he found one in Stan. 

He had grown so close to Stan, well, it was hard to imagine him being once detached to the android. 

Now, he could only think of Stan as a friend, an honorary family member, and an amazing person he got to share his life with.

And they had something.

When Stan paid such close attention to him, he couldn’t help but feel special. Perhaps that feeling could be chalked up to his hand in Stan’s creation, his maintenance, and his day-to-day life, but Fiddleford thought it was something more. 

The touching was rather intimate. Had it been anyone besides Stan, he wasn’t too sure if he would have allowed the behavior. Maybe he did allow the behavior because Stan wasn’t human. 

Stan thought differently than humans did, or at least that’s what Fiddleford hypothesized. There was a surety that Stan possessed that was rare in others. Originally, Fiddleford thought it was arrogance or confidence, but in reality it boiled down to the android’s programming, didn’t it?

For example, Fiddleford wasn’t too sure that Stan experienced ‘surprise,’ or any emotional response like it. In fact, it was one of the rare responses that he didn’t take to. Instead of judging like a human might, Stanley simply took the information in like it was: information. Nothing more. 

So when Stan spent hours simply looking at Fiddleford and then called him interesting, well, it was flattering. And somehow the robot seemed to know which parts of his body he was self conscious about and managed to compliment them off hand. (Was he that easy to read?)

Then there was that one memorable night. They were watching a movie together, nothing out of the ordinary. It was late, they were in his room on the bed, and Fiddleford found himself indulging Stan instead of working. The movie he had rented was an action thriller, instead of an action movie like he had thought. 

Fiddleford didn’t care for these movies, especially when the thrills were mostly jump scares. The movie was okay, but by the time it was finished, Fiddleford was wound up and anxious. 

Stan seemed to notice the tension and tried to break it up with his usual teasing. “Hey, what’s wrong, Fidds? Movie too scary for you?”

Fiddleford tried to laugh it off. “I’m fine. I’m just, ah, a little worked up,” he admitted.

Instead of the usual good-natured ribbing that Fiddleford expected, Stan’s face fell blank and he tilted his head to look him over. Fiddleford, not used to Stan being so blatant in his observation (Fiddleford was typically working on something else when this occured), turned his head away from Stan’s gaze.

After a moment, “Let me give you a massage, Fiddleford,” Stan offered. 

“What?” Fiddleford looked back at the android. He looked, normal, so to speak, and didn’t look like he had any other intentions. Stan looked his usual helpful self. 

“Let me help you work out the tension,” Stan said with a grin (his usual grin, affable and a bit crooked). 

Fiddleford almost protested, then remembered what Stan had been doing for the last few weeks, almost months now. A massage really wasn’t that different than all the touching, maybe even less strange than the touching. Not to mention, Stan was always happy just to help Fiddleford out. There was only one change, this was probably the first time Stan had offered rather than just given his touch freely.

Maybe Fiddleford should encourage this behaviour?

Anyways, he had already given Stan free reign beforehand. What was a little bit more?

“Sure, Stan,” Fiddleford agreed.

“Lie face-down on the bed?” Stan asked. 

Fiddleford noted that the phrase was definitely a question. The words were gentle and rather tentative compared to Stanley’s usual tones, letting him know that he could still refuse if he wanted to. Fiddleford was touched and a bit grateful at the gesture. He nodded and flopped onto his stomach.

Stan carefully shuffled close to him and gently placed his hands on top of his shoulders. “You’ll have to tell me how I’m doing,” Stan murmured. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I trust you, Stan,” Fiddleford said. And he meant it.

Stan hesitated, then starting pressing down on Fiddleford’s back. Stan’s hands were hard metal, and not very yielding, but he was careful not to put too much pressure. The results made it so Fiddleford couldn't help but groan. It felt amazing. 

Forget about the tension from the movie, Stan’s hands felt like they were massaging away the tension from all his years at university, possibly all his school days. It was like Stan’s hands knew just where to massage and which areas were the most important.

Fiddleford didn’t know for how long Stan massaged him. It could have been half an hour it could have been hours, all he knew was by the end of it, he was a relaxed pile sprawled across his covers. When Stan finished (and boy, was he thorough), Fiddleford had almost fallen asleep.

His eyelids were heavy and he managed to turn his head so he could see Stan.

Stan looked amused. He had his hands on his hips, a smug grin, and looked immensely satisfied with himself. However, instead of saying anything, Stan simply stripped the engineer of any uncomfortable clothing and then tucked him into bed. He cleaned up the room and once he was finished, Stan came back to him to run a hand through his hair, and whispered “Goodnight, Fidds.”

Then Stan turned the lights off and gently shut the door behind him.

Fiddleford was barely awake by the end of it, but he managed to stay conscious until the door shut. 

Then he fell asleep.

The next morning, Fiddleford managed to wake up before Stanford did, allowing him time alone with Stan. Stan acted like nothing was wrong. Fiddleford proceeded to do the same, until Stan offered to give him more massages in the future.

Fiddleford swallowed hard and almost stuttered a no, until he saw the expression on Stan’s face. Or more importantly, how happy and easy the request was. There was no teasing, and it was so casual, so effortless on Stan’s part.

And so Fiddleford accepted.

Stan gave him another smile and refreshed his coffee.

Fiddleford couldn’t help but smile back.

Stan turned back to making breakfast, just as Stanford stumbled into the kitchen. After Stanford was caffeinated, they managed a conversation about their plans for Thanksgiving break.

It was comfortable, cozy, and very domestic. Somehow that disappointed Fiddleford. Not that he wasn’t enjoying his makeshift family, but he knew that this was supposed to be temporary. However, he would enjoy it while he could.

Stan said something that made Stanford start to laugh, making Stan laugh too. Fiddleford felt his eyes drawn to them. He took another gulp of coffee. 

Whenever this happiness stopped, when things would inevitably change, Fiddleford was sure that he was going to get his heart broken. 

-000-

At first, Stanford found the touching nostalgic. Somehow the presence of Stan being close and in his personal space brought up memories more than annoyance. Maybe Stan was the exception. 

His touch reminded Stanford of how his mother used to hold him close to her chest before he got to be ‘too old to be a momma’s boy.’ It reminded of gently pressing kisses against Sherman's stomach and hugging his younger brother close.

After the initial nostalgia had passed, Stanford thought he wouldn’t care for Stanley’s touches, but he did. Stanford had made it clear that Stanley should not disturb him during his work, but surprisingly his explorations didn’t bother him. He had wondered why, until he thought about Stan’s circumstances. 

For all of Stan’s programming, Stan was still very young. There was still a lot to discover and Stanford could relate to the want of more knowledge. That was in Stanley's primary programming. The fascination with the scientists and the consumption of media was likely Stan’s way of becoming a better and more human caretaker for them. 

It would certainly explain Stan’s fascination with his hands. 

And this was only a hypothesis, but Stanford believed that part of Stan’s interest was caused by Stanford’s own interest in anomalies. 

In general, Stanford found the android’s behavior fascinating. While the want to get to know them better was human, there was the way that Stan went about things that was decidedly robotic. Stan observed, and didn’t make judgements, so much as decisions. The information that he took in didn’t cause any bias, despite his growing human nature. 

He enjoyed both sides of Stanley; the human and the robot. He liked that he was experiencing Stanley's growing human-ness through touch and speech. But he also appreciated the Stan’s robotic nature and abilities. 

For example, at the moment, Stan was helping him plot anomalies occurring over the US by plugging into ARPANET. Perhaps it wasn’t strictly legal, but apparently they would never be able to connect it to Stan. Stanford had several pushpins and a map in front of him, while Stan read coordinates out loud. Each push pin had a story, an incident where something strange and unexplainable happened. 

“Oh hey, this one’s a bit weird. This town had multiple thefts reported at a lot of locations,” Stan said, eyes aglow.

“How is that one strange?” Stanford asked.

“Listen to this, one of the thefts was in a bank vault and they found no evidence of the perpetrator. No dirt, dust, no indication that a human was inside the vault and no point of entry or exit. The same was reported for the other items stolen. The only reason why people noticed was because all of the items were old family heirlooms, made of gold.”

That was fascinating. Stanford wondered what was so special about the items. “What was stolen? Specifically.”

Stan’s eyes glowed brighter as he shuffled through the information. “Jewelry, a compass, a paperweight, a golden baby bottle-” Stanford’s quirked an eyebrow at the list, “-a dress, picture frames, a toilet seat, a tea set- well, you get the picture. Like I said, they were all old and made of gold,” Stan finished with a shrug. 

“Hm. Well that sounds like something, what are the coordinates?” Stanford got a pushpin ready.

“Latitude: 45 degrees, longitude: -122 degrees,” Stan rattled off.

Stanford looked to his map and saw that is was close to Portland, Oregon. Well, the incident certainly fell within the area of where the rest of the incidents were located. “What’s the next incident?”

Stan hummed softly. “Here’s one, there were several eye witnesses and some video proof. It takes place in Idaho.”

Stanford made a sound of pleasant surprise. They had already gone through a few that had taken place in Idaho, but this one was the first with video proof. Maybe Stan could get the data for him so he could see it for himself. “That’s fine, what’s the story behind this one?”

“Instant potato famine. A specific crop withered and died within seconds. It wasn’t even immediately after the harvest, it was once the potatoes were distributed throughout the states. It was a pretty widespread event, but most people chalked it up to a bad crop. However, the farmers and people of Idaho knew differently,” 

Stanford whistled. “That’s impressive. How did they explain that one?”

Stan tilted his head, his eyes began to glow a bit brighter, “A lot of the information is redacted, but-”

“Redacted?” Stanford interrupted.

Stan blinked and his eyes returned to normal. “Yeah, I’m tapping into the government servers right now for the information,” he said. 

Stanford opened his mouth, then shut it. Logically, he knew that that most of the information was coming from government sources, but it was another thing to be reminded of the fact. “You’re sure you’re untraceable?” Stanford couldn’t help but ask.

“Ford, how do you think I got the information for the rest of the locations? Most of them are from police reports. If they haven’t noticed then, they’re not going to notice now,” Stan said pointedly. 

That.. also made sense. Stanford had been working with Stan for weeks now and there was no response. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have good reason for accessing this information. This was for his research, the advancement of science, and for furthering people’s understanding of anomalies. There was no reason to change things now. 

“Tell me the rest of the story?” Stanford said. 

Stan grins and gives him a look that almost makes Stanford wonder if the android knew what he was thinking. “Okay, so the government guys, and let me tell you, there’s actually a division dedicated to this sort of thing, it’s why it’s so easy to find the locations. Anyways, they swoop in and reimburse the potato farmers. It didn’t take much to stop the talking, especially cuz they were scared that it might happen again. And,” Stan tilted his head, “Apparently they seized all the bad potatoes they could. Ford, they took thousands of pounds of bad potatoes,” Stan said with a snort. 

Stanford chuckled with him. “And where does this take place?”

“Everywhere,” Stan replied, and continues, “The center point of it all was a farm at, 42, -116.”

Stanford checks his atlas and his map and places a finger at the location. It’s in the southeast region of Idaho. “So near Oregon?” Stanford mumbled as he placed a pin at the location.

Stan did a quick check. “Yeah, most of them are centered around-”

“Wait, don’t tell me.” Stanford held a hand up. Stan rolled his eyes as the other man took a dramatic breath.. “Are they centered around Gravity Falls, Oregon?”

“You got it.”

“I thought so.” Stanford stared at the map satisfied. While they hadn’t plotted a lot of the anomalies, and there were many more to go through, most of them centered around that one town. Most of them had taken place in or nearby the area. They all sounded fascinating, and Stanford looked longingly at the spot on the map. 

“Did you want me to read more off to you?” 

Stan’s voice made Stanford rip his eyes away from the map. “No, I think that’s fine for now,” he said.

Stan shrugged and proceeded to unplug. He proceeded to flop onto the bed. "If you're sure, Poindexter."

Stanford rolled his eyes at the nickname. "Yes, I'm sure. Anyways it's just for fun."

Stan lifted an eyebrow (and wow, Stanford was very impressed with how realistically unimpressed Stan looked, his actions were becoming more and more human). "Sixer- Ford, you love this sort of stuff. Why aren't you going for it?"

Memories started flashing in Stanford’s mind. He tried to pay attention to Stanley, but he was taken back to the days where he was bullied by Crempelter for being a ‘six-fingered freak.’ He remembered a conversation at the start of college, a professors and some of his peers laughing, wondering why Stanford would want to pursue anomalies when he could go to other fields. Even a conversation with Fiddleford came up, the other scientists kind face smiling at him and asking ‘what are you going to do when you graduate, Stanford?’

Such an innocent question, both of them, but they made Stanford question his life and his interests. 

"It's not a good use of my genius,” Stanford parroted old words from some of his unrelenting colleagues. “I could be contributing so much more to another field-"

"Ford, that's the point of a genius. Whatever field you go into, you'll always contribute to the field," Stan interrupted, exasperated. Stanford couldn’t help but be flattered at Stan’s statement. It wasn’t like the android was wrong. And he had a terribly good point, too. 

Stanford couldn’t help but glance at the map once more. "When did you get so smart?" Stanford said, wryly.

"I don't need to know the definition of astrophysics to know what would make you happy, Ford." Stan immediately replied.

Stanford smiled helplessly at Stan. “You really are a genius, Stan.”

“I take after my creators,” Stan said sincerely, returning the smile. 

Stanford looked at him curiously, but silently agreed. He could admit that Stan had surpassed all his expectations and was in some ways, better than him or Fiddleford. He couldn't help the wave of emotions (happiness? desire? hope?) that overcame him, thinking about being able to go to Gravity Falls, studying anomalies, with Stan supporting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Ramblings (October 9, 2015)
> 
> This was one of the strangest chapters I’ve had to edit. My first edit, had me adding quite a few words to the chapter. In fact, I wanted to add more details, but decided they didn’t fit. My next edit had me taking away large chunks of the story. Several paragraphs were taken out in the editing process. 
> 
> There are actually a lot of details of this story that I want to write. A lot of mundane details. I want to write a day in their lives, well, several days. However, I don’t think the story needs that. 
> 
> But if I haven’t made it clear, I would love the readers to be able to picture their lives, just day to day, normal and boring things happening. Just the three of them spending time together in the apartment. With the scientists doing their work separate, but occasionally in the same space, with Stan taking care of them. I kinda wish I put in a few of those days in the second chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to everyone who leaves comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [Sincave](http://stancestsincave.tumblr.com), who is helping me stay motivated and finish this fic.

Stanley's internal clock gave him a ping at 7:23am. His power cell hummed happily. (He was on an anthropomorphic kick right now, and he found the words suited him quite well). He was freshly charged and in optimal condition. If he was careful, he could last 20 hours before having to charge again. 

He did one last check, gently moving his limbs and going over the diagnostic just to make sure. Maybe he would go ask Fiddleford for a check. Nothing felt wrong, but he had been messing with his coding (a little, as usual) and he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't fall apart. 

While this was going on, he was also checking his memory bank, skimming over any pertinent information for the day. On the calendar Stan knew that in addition to their classes both Stanford and Fiddleford were working today. 

By the end of his check the time was 7:44am.

This made the android pause. his processing was.. slower than he expected for such a simple diagnostic. Only a few minutes difference, but worrying none the less. He was definitely going to have to go to Fiddleford, but that could wait.

His eyelids slid up allowing him to view the room. The sun was up, but the curtains absorbed most of the light. Everything was quiet and Stan gently unhooked from his mainframe to silently stand up. 

He paused. 

Just by standing, Stan sent some of the the dust in the air into a flurry. The movement was unnoticeable to the human eye, but Stan noticed. He hated even creating the possibility of disturbing Ford’s sleep. However, he shouldn’t have worried, the scientist continued to snooze away. 

Stan made his way carefully to the edge of the bed and kneeled down so he could look at Ford’s sleeping face. Ford continued to snore, oblivious to Stan’s attention. 

Stan stared at the man. The subject in question was laying on his stomach, head turned to the side, mouth open, and was drooling. The sheets were messy and tangled in his limbs. It looked like Ford had tried to undress, but fell asleep midway through the process. His arms were bare, while the rest of the sweater was bunched up around his neck. 

Stan loved the sight. 

Ford was such a controlling character that seeing him so loose and free was such a treat to Stan. He could look at the man for hours. He didn’t (although that was his choice, if he wanted to, he could simply watch the man sleep most of). However, Stan did make sure to save the image. 

Stan quietly snuck away to go wake up Fiddleford. 

Fiddleford would set his alarm to 8:30am. Depending on when he fell asleep, Fiddleford would take anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes to wake up completely. 

But recently, Fiddleford was letting Stan wake him instead. At 8:15, Stan would go into Fiddlefords room and turn off the alarm. Stan would sit by the engineer and watch him until the engineer was coming out of a REM cycle, where Fiddleford would be able to rouse completely in five minutes. 

This gave Stan time to drink in the sight of Fiddleford while he was sleeping. 

Like Ford, Stan loved saving images of sleepy Fiddleford. The man was a heavy sleeper and was often found in any position imaginable. Stan could find the man tucked into fetal position, sprawled across the sheets, have half of his body hanging off the bed, or memorably the one time where Stan found Fiddleford partially sprawled across both the chair and the bed. (He had put Fiddleford back into the bed first before waking him. Luckily the man was a heavy sleeper.)

There was something terribly endearing about Fiddleford putting so much trust in Stan’s capabilities. 

(It made him.. it made him _feel_ a little bit more than he thought he was capable of.)

At times, Stan wished that mornings lasted longer.. He took a great amount of pleasure in the morning. If he was anymore human, Stan might have printed a few photos of his scientists for keepsakes. However he wasn’t human, and he had a computer’s memory and his data bank to keep the images sake. 

But time went on and Fiddleford and Stanford would wake up eventually, so Stan just enjoyed what moments he had with them. 

After Fiddleford was awake, Stan would leave the room to let Fidds get ready for the day. On average, Fiddleford took about thirty six minutes to get ready, which was plenty of time for Stan to make a meal for the scientists. 

In seconds he could do inventory, calculate the meals that he could make, then make note of what they needed, and tack a list of those items up on the fridge.

Then he started on breakfast and lunch. Breakfast was easy enough, coffee and something filling (eggs and toast, pancakes, or even sandwiches). For lunch, the scientists went to the canteen (with their full scholarships, they had free meals), but Stan packed Fiddleford some snacks: cut fruit and/or veggies. (Ford rejected his snacks, something about not ‘eating doesn’t matter in the face of science,’ the nerd.)

Then Fiddleford would come into the kitchen and they would talk about his plans and any of the projects he worked on while Stan was ‘asleep.’ Recently, they had started talking about media, especially the books Stan consumed. During this time, Stan would make requests for more books and bring the ones he had finished to Fidds. 

Sometime during their conversation, Stanford would stumble in. (Ford had this notion of wanting to do things himself. He was often late because he didn’t want Stan waking him up. To be fair, even Stan might not be able to help Ford in the morning. The man’s sleeping schedule was surprisingly erratic and unpredictable. Stan hadn’t yet created an accurate algorithm for the man.

Fiddleford would leave at 9:45am so precisely that even Stan was surprised at the engineers accuracy.

Stanford would rush out the door, at the earliest, at 9:56. (Potentially later.)

After they left, Stan was left alone in the apartment for six to ten hours. . 

At the beginning of his creation, Stan spent the time cleaning the apartment. The guys didn’t notice, but he tried to keep the place spotless. And with the mess that they could create, it had taken quite a few days before Stan was satisfied with the results.

However, once he had the initial mess managed, cleaning didn’t take up the whole day. Instead of asking his creators for some more tasks, he hadn’t been that comfortable with them at the time, he started watching movies. 

He didn’t watch on the tv, but through his data bank. In the beginning, he had enough memory that he could store the movies that he had already seen, then review the movies and carefully cultivate the personality that he liked and was expected of him. 

After that… 

There were only so many times Stan could watch a movie. It was old material at that point and Stan had taken all that he could from the information offered. (Not that he could tell Stanford and Fiddleford that. He was trying for subtle.)

So instead of asking for things to do, Stan started to review his data. However, this would lead Stan down several different paths of thought. The one he spent the most time considering (specifically 87% of his time) was his future.

From the beginning, Stan had apprehensions about his purpose.

His first directive was toward the care of Sherman ‘Shermy’ Pines.

But he wasn’t with Shermy. 

His next directive was to learn to care for Stanford and Fiddleford (in preparation for Shermy’s care). 

They were simple enough, but there were so many questions that Stan needed answered. What if those two directives clashed? Which one would he obey? How would he fulfill his first directive if he couldn’t meet Shermy? What if he didn’t ever meet Shermy?

At this point Stan wasn't even sure whether he'd ever meet Shermy. However, that would be determined by Stanford and Fiddleford. Eventually, all of Stan’s thinking led him to the conclusion that he would just have to stay with the scientists. 

He.. cared for them. 

However, Stan had to guarantee that they felt the same, wanted to make sure that he was indispensable, and that they would never give him away. He not only endeared himself to the scientists, he also tailored himself to their liking (surprisingly, they had some similar tastes).

Not enough to change his core, but just enough that they would feel more at ease with his presence. 

Small things, really. 

Stan made sure to keep Fiddleford’s workplace well stocked, the small things that the engineer might forget, like his special paper, pencils, nuts, screws, items that might be overlooked. He also kept track of Fiddleford’s meals (which Fiddleford noticed and thanked him for). 

Perhaps the biggest change was when Stan talked to Fiddleford. For example, with Fiddleford, Stan made sure to adjust his voice box to a volume of 40%. Lower, depending on the work he was doing, and how involved he was.

Stan also started calculating the number of words they exchanged. There were a few factors was dependent on his involvement in the conversations. Fiddleford was happy enough to talk about his day. However, when Stan initiated the conversation, there were 30% less awkward pauses (pauses that lasted more than 7.2 seconds) and Fiddleford looked less guilty about rambling. 

Interestingly enough, Stanford’s behavior didn’t really change depending on Stan’s behavior. At first he noticed that Ford’s word count wasn’t affected by Stan per say, but the fact that he had someone listening to him. Stan noticed that often Ford was receptive to his behavior (no matter what it was) as long as he listened to Ford’s words. 

He could change his word count to the hundreds or the thousands, it didn’t matter. As long as he listened to Stanford, Stanford would in turn listen to him. He could use any volume, he could give him any meal, he could clean the room around the scientists without much reaction. 

There were small things he was constantly learning about the two men. 

However, as the weeks passed Stan started to learn that they were just that, human. 

And he was not. 

It wasn’t so much as a crisis of identity, as it was the realization that the scientists, despite their smarts, despite their genius, simply didn’t think like he did. They couldn’t think like Stan and Stan couldn’t think like they did. Stan noticed that he didn’t have to calculate things to the nth percentile and make sure his voice was at a certain percentage or that he didn’t need to count the number of words exchanged. 

(He still did, but that wasn’t the point.)

The point was that it didn’t matter to anyone, but him. 

That was a revelation that became very important to him in the passing weeks. Because, even if his behavior was variable (which he did track) it didn’t change Ford’s or Fiddle’s behavior to him. He calculated over the next couple of weeks and discreetly checked things, but it didn’t seem like their opinion changed either. 

Stan only had the time for about two months, but he trusted the processing power that the two had put in him. If his mind told him that there were no changes, then he would have to trust that his calculations were true despite the lack of data that he had. 

And so two months became three, and he became closer to them physically. 

Then it became four months and their lives were intertwined. 

Stan enjoyed his life and didn’t want things to change. But that was out of his hands. He could only take each day at a time and enjoy what he had in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Ramblings - 
> 
> This is actually chapter 3.5. Last chapter I mentioned that there was something I wanted to write, but didn’t get the chance to write, and alejao8 suggested I do a half chapter. After some deliberation, I thought why not? So this is a short update.
> 
> And I’ve gotten some comments that I haven’t clearly stated the timeline for this fic, so I wanted to clarify clearly the timeline. So the story actually starts in August and is now in late November. So… about one month passes for them to build Stan. About two months have passed total when we reached the events of the second chapter. Then the third chapter takes place about two months later. That’s a rough timeline. 
> 
> I think that’s a reasonable amount of time for Stanley to develop. Especially because unlike a human, Stanley can think all the time. In a 24 hour day, people will probably spend about 8 hours asleep, leaving 16 hours. Then subtract three meal times, 1.5 hours, then that’s 14.5 hours. Then if we subtract another for using facilities, 2 hours, then that’s 12.5 hours. And that's the optimistic number. That’s the potential time humans have, not including other responsibilities. Probably humans only have at max 5 hours to actually process information that they want. 
> 
> Stan can use all the 24 hours to think and process information. That’s why he advances so fast. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving kudos and thank you to everyone who leaves me a lovely comment! I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to tell me your thoughts~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: 2/11/2018
> 
> Notes: I’m back~~~ I really wanted to finish this story, so I’m doing my best to edit things. This fic (well, arc) is actually almost finished, but I have a difficult time editing when I'm not motivated. By the way, comments totally help, thanks to those who left me lovely comments. This chapter was inspired by a tumblr post awhile back that I can no longer find. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

Winter approached and the temperature dropped. The cold doesn’t affect Stanford and Fiddleford, not does it affect Stan, but it does make Stan… Not nervous, but highly aware of the time of year.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, which meant Fiddleford was heading back for the holidays. Stanford was staying on campus.

While it would be nice to get some alone time with Ford, Thanksgiving reminds Stan of the next impending holiday: Hanukkah. It made sense that Stanford, who put his education over his family, would choose not to go back for Thanksgiving. It was a lot of effort to back to the east coast for only a few days. However, the winter holiday was two weeks long. Would Stanford take the chance to go visit his family and celebrate the holidays?

And where would that leave Stanley?

If Stanford decided to head back home, several scenarios could occur. Fiddleford could bring Stan back with him to his home. Unlikely, but still possible. His creators could leave him alone in the apartment. It would be lonely, but a perfectly reasonable and logical outcome.

Or Stanford could use the holidays as a chance to bring Stan back to his family.

Stan was apprehensive about the idea.

Don’t get him wrong, it was practically hardwired into his programming for him to unconditionally love Shermy. Not to mention anyone who could make Stanford smile was amazing. No doubt, Stan would love Shermy and love taking care of him.

However the thought of leaving and living without Stanford and Fiddleford made his joints creak.

He was scared.

There was a battle inside of Stan: his programming versus his will. Neither side was wrong, they simply opposed each other. Being with Shermy or being with Stanford, the choice was out of his hands.

And it pained him. Bringing up these thought processes literally heated him up, made his gears turn too fast, and had him using up energy faster than the optimal level.

He should ask. A definite answer might put him out of his misery. However, bringing up the subject may inadvertently cause Stanford to decide to bring Stan back. (At the moment there was only a 7% chance of Stanford bringing him back, but that was caused by the fact that there was an 80% chance that Stanford didn’t even remember that the holidays were coming up. The first probability could increase with the mention of the holiday, unless Stanley got a definite ‘no.’)

So instead of asking, Stan tried increasing his chances of staying by ingratiating himself to Stanford. (Nothing on Fiddleford, he simply knew that the final decision was Stanford’s.)

Perhaps it was a bit underhanded, manipulating Stanford with the touching (he wanted to do it though), the proving of his usefulness (he really was good enough to hack into government servers undetected), and the slight push towards a lifestyle where Stan would be useful (and make Stanford happy), but Stan wanted to be happy too.

He was happy here.

Stan considered all that he was doing and came to the conclusion that what he needed was more information.

-000-

Stan got his chance a few days later. Stanford was away and would be away for at least three hours (give or take 27 minutes). Fiddleford had finished his responsibilities for the day and would be staying in the apartment for the rest of the day.

The man was reading on the couch enjoying his rare time off. Stan couldn’t help but memorize the scene in front of him. It was a rare sight to see Fiddleford put his whole focus into something without the frantic energy that came with working, creating, or studying. Fiddleford very rarely let himself relax like this (when he was awake).

(Fiddleford had this want to be productive and accepted, but without changing himself. Without any concrete facts, Stanley could only predict a 73% chance of this being because of his home life and 67% chance of being a result of a failed romance.)

Stan hated taking this time away from the man, but he needed answers, and so it was with a heavy chassis that he was going have to interrupt Fiddleford.

He made sure to make noise so Fiddleford knew he was coming, laid down and settled so his head was on Fiddleford’s lap (he made sure to put down a cushion first).

“Hey, Fidds,” Stan said into the scientist’s stomach.

“Hi, Stan,” Fiddleford replied. The engineer gave him a small smile before going back to his reading.

Stan let Fiddleford get comfortable and he adjusted himself so that the man wasn’t taking all of his weight. He let himself have a full sixty seconds of peace, simply enjoying the fact that he could do this with the other man, before addressing him again.

“Serious question, do you mind questioning Ford for me? I don't know whether or not he's going to bring me back to his family or not," Stan said. Approaching Fiddleford honestly was the best way to get his request done faster.

Fiddleford startled at the thought. "Bring you to his family," he echoed.

"Yeah, can you ask him for me?" Stan said, his face still buried into the scientist’s midsection. He really should be looking at Fiddleford, the man’s expression would confirm whether or not he was going to grant Stanley’s request, but in this moment, Stan preferred not knowing.

Fiddleford stared at the android that was snuggling him and sighed. He put his book down and curled around Stanley. He thought he felt the android relax.

"Maybe I'm a little too attached, but I don't want you to leave," Fiddleford admitted softly.

Stan leaned into the touch and wished that he could feel the warmth and comfort of Fiddlefords embrace.

"Me too, Fidds," Stan mumbled.

They stayed in that position for a while before Stan lifted his head up and shifted positions. Fiddleford got up, allowing Stan to lay across the couch. The android opened his arms and Fiddleford sunk into them, despite the fact that Stan’s metal form probably wasn’t that comfortable. Stan appreciated the gesture.

The android enjoyed the embrace, despite not being able to feel the minute details that humans could. However, he simply enjoyed the things he could: hearing the slow inhale and exhale of Fiddleford breathing, using his inhuman sight to look at Fiddleford’s follicles, pores, and freckles, and just being able to feel the human spread out against him.

While Stan enjoyed the experience, Fiddleford was having a minor crisis at Stan’s questions.

He had already decided that he was going to talk to Stanford, there was no question about that, but he was scared of the conversation. Fiddleford genuinely cared for Stan and didn’t want to see him go. There wasn’t much he could do if Stanford chose otherwise, after all the android was designed for Shermy, but…

Fiddleford was interrupted from his thoughts when Stan pulled one of his hands up to his face. Fiddleford automatically caressed the smooth metal that made Stan’s cheek. Stan settled again, content at the contact.

Seeing, Stan’s content expression, Fiddleford knew what he should at least say next. He moved closer to Stan’s audio receivers.

“I love you too, Stan,” Fiddleford whispered.

Stan deliberately blinked in his direction before giving him a bright smile.The android chuckled into his hair. This close, Fiddleford could clearly how inhuman Stan’s laugh was. It was too low, a little grating, and it sounded more like moving metal than a human laugh, but it was sort of perfect that way.

While Fiddleford didn’t think of Stan in _that_ way (Stanley was his creation), he did love him. Stan was special and he did an amazing thing for Ford and himself. Fiddleford had quite a few friends (it was part of his southern charm), but there were very few he felt similar to in this college. As horrible as it was, Stanford was one of his only intellectual equals. However, he and Stanford had only been close as intellectuals, not as people.

Stan had changed that and brought them together and now they were a family.

It was hard to imagine Stan not in their lives. (Actually, it was easy to imagine he and Ford going back to their old ways, without Stan there as a buffer. It was painful to think about losing their current camaraderie and kinship.)

Intellectually, Fiddleford always knew this happiness would not last forever. He just didn’t think it would end so soon.

However, instead of voicing any of the more serious thoughts aloud, Fiddleford said, “I thought you couldn't feel.”

He scolded himself immediately after the words left his mouth. Really Fiddleford.

“I can’t,” Stan admitted. “I don’t feel, so much as receive confirmation that there’s something pressed against my chassis.”

He nuzzled against Fiddleford’s hand. “I still like it, though.”

“Let’s change positions then.”

They changed so that Stan was lying between Fiddleford’s legs, face snuggled into the engineer’s chest, carefully situated so he wouldn’t crush the scientist. Fiddleford didn’t want to admit it aloud, but Stan was a bit heavy. Even more importantly, Fiddleford was liking Stan’s heavy form on top of him.

He distracted himself by running his hands against Stan’s chassis (not gently, Stan said the feedback was greater the heavier the touch). Stan closed his eyes and went still.

Fiddleford couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across his face. It was nice when Stan dropped the human pretenses. From his vantage point, Stan was obviously not human and not asleep. He was too still and Fiddleford could actually hear some of the mechanisms of Stan’s chassis working to keep him functioning. Fiddleford continued to indulge the android, anyways.

Stan deserved happiness.

However, Stan _was_ a little too warm to the touch. Perhaps he should do a more in depth check-up before he left for the holidays? Maybe his exhaust ports weren’t as effective as they should be…

Caught in his thoughts, Fiddleford didn’t hear the door open. Stanford walked into the scene and Fiddleford awkwardly caught his eye. Before Fiddleford could say anything, Stan spoke first: “Hey, Ford,” he said, muffled against Fiddleford’s stomach.

Stanford raised an eyebrow and Fiddleford just shrugged. Stanford nodded back and continued as if nothing was wrong.

“I’m keeping Fidds hostage, so he can’t pack and leave us for Thanksgiving,” Stan continued.

“Aww, Stan,” Fiddleford said. That was sweet, although untrue. Then he considered the idea. It was something that Stan would do…

Stanford chuckled.

“I should get packing, Stan.” Fiddleford said fondly.

“Fine,” Stan said. He slowly pulled himself off and offered Fiddleford a hand up once he was standing. “I’ll go make you something for the road.”

Once Stan was off of Fiddleford, Stanford proceeded back to his room.

Stanley gave Fiddleford a wink and was about to follow his not-twin when Fiddleford started talking.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan stopped.

“When I’m done packing, come to my room so I can give you maintenance check before I leave?”

“Sounds good, Sparky.”

Fiddleford finished packing and Stanley made Fiddleford a thermos and a sandwich for the bus. Fiddleford gave Stan a fast diagnostic (he was running late, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong, maybe the extra heat was just his imagination), and Fiddleford promised to talk to Stanford once he was back from the holidays.

-000-

Not much changed after Fiddleford had left. Stanford still spent the majority of his time focused on academia, while Stan puttered around the house or helped Stanford with his research. However, Ford did request Stan’s help more often ( a 235% rise) in helping him research Gravity Falls. Stan wasn’t sure whether it was a result from the holiday, Fiddleford’s absence, or the scientists growing interest in the area (it seemed he had finally considered studying anomalies an option for his future), or maybe a combination. Whatever the reason, they spent more time with each other.

On Thanksgiving, Stan managed to make a filling albeit unorthodox meal. Afterwards, Stanford lounged lazily, full and warm from the meal. He watched Stanley as the android cleaned up the kitchen.

Stanford felt good . Although he greatly enjoyed Fiddleford’s company, it was nice having the apartment to himself (Stanley didn’t count). It was especially nice during the holidays, when there was less people around. He could immerse himself in his projects without having to worry about work or people.

Speaking of which, Stanford had been looking forward to a certain experiment he had in mind. He had kept the idea to himself, not out of malice to Fiddleford, but simply because he knew the experiment would be better off performed with less people.

Once he had digested, Ford stood up and said, “Walk with me, Stan?”

Stan looked at Stanford curiously, but shrugged, following him to his room. Stanford opened up his closet, rummaging through the clothes while Stanley looked confused.

“Ford, what are you doing?”

Ford tossed a pair of socks, a pair of shoes, a blazer, a scarf, and a pair of sunglasses onto the bed. “Put those on,” he said with a grin. “We’re going out.”

-000-

“Stop fiddling with your sunglasses, Stan.”

Stan, who had been reaching for his sunglasses, put his hand down.

They were walking across campus. Ford led the way, while Stan made sure to keep pace. With the sun already setting, Stan wearing more layers (although the blazer was a bit snug across Stan’s shoulders), and the sunglasses covering Stan’s glowing eyes, they looked like two normal college students going for a walk.

Stan seemed to twitch nervously, a first for him. Extraneous movement didn’t happen very often with Stan unless it was deliberate, Stanford observed. Stan didn’t notice his observations. He was grinning widely and nervously, trying to surreptitiously look at everything without being too obvious.

Stanford was glad that Stan was enjoying the new experience. For the longest time, both Fiddleford and Stanford had wanted to bring Stan out, but there never seemed to be a good time. Ford thought that it had to be now, during a holiday, at nighttime. (He had also deliberately left Fiddleford out, because Fiddleford was quite popular on campus and this was not the time to attract attention.)

Stanley stuck close to Stanford. While Stanford was having fun over the situation, Stanley was thrown and out of sorts. Yes, he was happy, but this was overwhelming.

Because- it was hard for him to predict what was going to happen. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, he knew that he would experience this more often the more he went out, but it was difficult. On top of the fact that Stan still didn’t know his fate, being thrown into a new situation like this was almost too much for him.

And it was startling. No one looked twice at them. Stanley had always been aware that he was not human, that he couldn’t pass as human, but no one gave them a second glance.

Unknowing of Stan’s troubled thoughts, Stanford merrily made his way to their destination. He bumped shoulders with the android, “Hey, we’re here.”

Stanley looked up from his contemplations. He deliberately raised both eyebrows past his sunglasses so Ford could see his reaction.

Ford chuckled. “Yeah, I thought it would be best if we started slow,” he said and walked up to the ticket counter to buy the both of them movie tickets.

Stan kept his eyebrows high, but didn’t say anything. It made sense, a dark theater so no one could see Stan’s inhuman features.

After their tickets were bought, they settled near the back of the theater to wait. Surprisingly the theater was less empty than Ford had expected. While it wasn’t full, a good third of the seats had people in them. Most of them were about Stanford’s age, most likely students. Luckily, none of them sat in their vicinity.

“What exactly are we watching?” Stanley whispered.

“I’m actually not too sure. It came at the recommendation of one of Fiddleford’s friends,” Stanford replied. The friend was pretty vehement that this was the best theater around, the screening choices were excellent, and that everyone loved going here. Stanford hoped it was as good as its reputation, he wanted Stanley to enjoy this experience.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, indicating the start of the show. Both Stans sat back and focused on the screen in front of them.

The scene opened up to an ocean front which gradually panned to a house. From the looks of it, the movie was about a married couple? Stanford immediately felt himself getting bored. He should have checked the film before buying the tickets. Romance movies were not his first choice of film.

But moments later, when the man started going down on the woman, Stanford finally realized why there were so many people in the theater. He swallowed and tried to casually glance at the other movie-goers.

The people in the theater were starting to get together.

He mentally cursed. He should have realized this was what the friend meant by ‘stimulating material.’ Why couldn’t a normal person just come out and say that there was sex involved without any double entendres? Stanford was about to suggest leaving to Stanley, but stopped when he saw Stan’s expression. Stanley was… well, he looked like a robot.

Typically, Stanley was rather careful in deliberately looking more human. He added some extraneous movement to his actions and he made sure not to let his face go blank. Right now, Stanley was completely concentrated on the screen, face blank and unmoving.

Stanford settled back into his seat. The point of the excursion was for Stanley after all. He could sit through a pornographic movie, for Stanley’s sake.

The movie was surprisingly good, aesthetically at least. The camera angles and shots were done professionally, highlighting the actors and actresses best features. And they all looked like they were genuinely enjoying themselves.

Even more surprisingly, the story line kept his attention. Ford wasn’t a big fan of romance in real life. Roman in media was even worse, it seemed over the top and unrealistic.

Part way through the movie Ford was afraid the movie would dissolve into one big orgy once a neighboring couple was introduced, but that by far created the most promising plot. The relationships had good chemistry and the dynamics were fascinating.

As the movie started to climax (pun intended), so did the people in the audience (although there was plenty of that before this part of the movie). Their activities were getting harder to ignore and Ford had to concentrate on the screen in order to stop his eyes from wandering.

Although, it’s not like it’s a hardship to watch the film. The actors were very visually pleasing and the actions only accent their beauty and sensuality. He was not ashamed to admit that maybe if he had a partner with him at the moment then maybe he too would be indulging in some of the play that was happening in the theater.

But today he would just enjoy the porn and be happy for Stanley who was enjoying the experience.

When the movie finished, Stanley seemed to turn back into his regular personality and they slipped away before the other members of the theater could rouse themselves from their seats (and bodily fluids).

The November wind was surprisingly cool against Stanford’s cheeks. Maybe he was a little more affected by the move than he thought.

In order to distract himself, Ford asked, “Did you enjoy the movie?”

At first, Stan didn’t reply. Stanford looked to the android and saw him with a blank if slightly contemplative face on. He gently bumped shoulders with him. “Stanley?”

Stanley slowly turned his head to look at him. Then he gave him a small smile. “Sorry, Ford. I was just thinking about the movie.”

Stanford blinked. How was he supposed to reply to that?

“So you enjoyed it?” Stanford tried again.

Stanley slowly nodded. “I did.” He paused. “Do you think we could see more movies like that?”

Stanford opened his mouth and then shut it. After a moment, he agreed.

The sunglasses and scarf can’t hide the brilliant smile that Stan gives him.

Ford doesn’t even try to stop himself from asking, “Why?”

“Well, it was just so…” Stan paused as if searching for the right word, which from what Stanford knows now, is probably true. “Real. It was more human than a lot of the other movies and shows I’ve been watching. I want to watch more.”

Stanford considered Stan’s answers and agrees that the porn was very- human. The media that Stan has consumed is very exaggerated, and most reactions are acted and definitely staged. Unlike what they just saw, the actors definitely hadn’t been pretending their release.

But… “I should warn you, Stan, not all adult content is like that.”

Stan gave him a sly grin. “Oh, are you an expert, Sixer?”

Stanford rolled his eyes, but can feel himself turning red. He buried his nose into his scarf, trying to hide the reaction. Stanley’s grin grows wider as they reach the apartment.

“Let’s talk to Fiddleford when he gets back,” Stanford grumbled.

-000-

Despite Stanford’s embarrassment (that’s Stanley’s interpretation of his emotion, although he can’t be sure if it’s a combination of things), they go to the theater again the next day.

It’s actually the same movie being played again, but Stanley still enjoys it.

Just as much as he enjoys watching the people in the theater. Stanley hadn’t been kidding when he said that the pornographic movie was the most real and human piece of media he had seen.  However, that wasn’t the biggest reason he had wanted to go. In reality, what Stan wanted the most was to watch the people in the theatre. Behind his sunglasses, even Stanford couldn’t tell where Stan is looking.

Stan can look at how the other people, the singles, the couples, the groups, react to what’s happening on and off screen.

More importantly, he can watch Ford.

Oh sure, Stanford does his best to stay neutral. And he does stay neutral for a large majority of the film, anything dealing with romance and declarations of love do nothing for him, but the sex?

Stanford can’t help the way he tilts his head as if mimicking the two people kissing on screen. He’ll cross his legs at a particularly interesting scene to straighten his back, and uncross them when the scene is over. Occasionally he’ll shift in his seat when he sees a particularly arousing scene. Stanley thinks he might be imagining himself in place of an actor.

Stanley can’t be too sure (only 63% sure), but he’s gathered enough data on Ford to determine that his calculations were getting more accurate.

Luckily for him, they even go Saturday allowing him to collect even more information. However, on Saturday the crowd in the theater is noticeably larger. Whether the reason is because it’s a weekend or people are coming back from the holidays, this is most likely the last day that Stan will head out in public for awhile.

Stanley tells Stanford it’s okay, he’s happy with this experience, no matter how short. However, if Ford could acquire more ‘material’ for him he would be very grateful.

Stanford flushes red when Stanley says this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published - March 28, 2018
> 
> Author's Note - This is kinda like a shorter chapter: 5.5. Thanks to all of those who comment and continue to read this fic~

When the theater first darkens, Stan turns toward the screen and closes his eyes. 

The two of them are in the back-most row with no one sitting next to them, but Stan doesn’t want to take the chance. Even with his sunglasses, his eyes are very noticeable in the dark. 

When the music starts it’s something relaxing and melodious. Based on the media he’s viewed, the presence of strings in the form of smooth jazz informs Stan that there is a 78% percent chance the opening scene is a ‘happy’ one. There should be enough lighting that opening his eyes will not bring any people’s attention to him. 

He opens one of his lids a few millimeters and his calculations are confirmed, the start of the movie is well lit. 

(Although it’s relatively dark and there's no reason for people to look his way, Stan can't help but think about the fact that his face is clearly illuminated for everybody to see. If they look at him, they’ll be able to see the inhuman lines of his face and the nuts and bolts that keep him together. 

Stan does not adjust the scarf around his neck, nor does he squirm in his seat, which would draw attention to himself. He drops his extraneous movements to go perfectly still. 

But before he turns to the movie he covertly looks at Ford. 

His creator is looking intently at the screen, already getting absorbed by the picture. 

Stan puts most of his attention (75% of his attention, a good portion of it considering how much can be accomplished with that mush attention) into watching the movie. The rest he allows for data collection around him, just in case someone does decide to look back at him, and as usual, the rest he devotes to Stanford. 

The starting scene is nothing unusual, although already Stan can see the natural chemistry between the two protagonists. It’s a rare thing to see; where the two look like they’ve known each other for longer than the time they’ve filmed. The two actors are comfortable in each other’s space, and are closer because of it. 

Stan memorizes the gestures between the two. He watches carefully as their eyes linger on the other’s form. They don’t even think before touching each other. The touches are received happily. He can learn a lot from these two. 

Then one leans in to kiss the other. 

It’s so natural. 

And beautiful. 

Stan appreciates the fact that he put so much focus into this movie. 

They don’t stop kissing. 

It’s so natural that Stan doesn’t really think about what they’re doing, just absorbs the information on the screen. However, Stan registers a minute moment from his side. Ford has reacted to the scene. His spine has straightened by a few degrees and his lips are parted. His expression changes. 

A moment later Ford seems to shake himself out of his stupor. Ford makes the motion to look over at him so Stan makes sure his body language implies he’s paying attention to the movie and only the movie. 

Ford looks at him and squints. Stan pretends not to pay attention to Ford, and when Ford finally gets bored, he shrugs, settles back, and returns to the screen. At first he’s distracted by the people around them, but he quickly gets pulled back into the movie. Once Stan is sure that Ford is again engrossed in the movies (97% sure) Stan allows himself to observe Ford once more. 

Something happens on screen and suddenly the people around them start to move. Ford also reacts (but doesn’t turn to him) and Stan strains his senses to absorb all of the information around him. He manages to take everything in. 

There are the people on screen. They come together, and it's the most realistic looking sex scene he's seen. There are no strange camera angles or bad acting. These two have obviously done this before. They're familiar and comfortable with each other. Most importantly, they look like they’re enjoying themselves. It shows in the way they move and how they don’t hesitate to pleasure the other. 

Stan wonders, can he mimic that sort of intimacy with Fidds and Ford?

He wishes he could see himself with them. Stan could position himself exactly the same, measure the space between them, calculate the distance to the millimeter, but would it look the same?

When he and Ford talk, when Ford gets excited about something, does Stan stare at Ford like he’s something special?

When he gives Fidds a massage, do they look as comfortable and cozy as these two do?

When he touches them, does it look that intimate?

He’s not sure.

Although the movie is great study material, Stan thinks it may be a good idea to observe the people around them. Many of them have already stripped their clothes off and started touching themselves. 

Stan reaches the conclusion that these people must feel safe. Even with the screen, the darkness hides them (although his sight is much more advanced than humans, they can’t hide from him). 

Some start to group together. Some mimic the people on screen. Most don't.

They’re so… sloppy. Desperate even. And very real. No less real than what's in screen, but definitely different. There’s a lot of awkward fumbling, clothes in the way, and bodily fluids are getting everywhere. 

How exciting. 

And then there's Ford.

Ford has never shown any enthusiasm towards romance and sex. Have things changed because he thinks he isn't being watched and he’s ‘alone’? Or is it the content that makes him react? Stan will have to look up this movie later. 

And Ford changes. It’s unusual (this behavior radically diverging from past behavior), if there’s one thing that Ford is, it’s thoughtless. Sure, Ford is smart and logical, but because he’s so sure of his intelligence, his first choice can be without thought. It’s only when he fails that he starts considering his actions. 

As a result, Ford will do first and actively think when he needs to. If there’s food, he’ll eat it. If he has a thought, he’ll write it down to look at it later. If there’s a problem in front of him to solve, he’ll pick up a pen even though he hasn’t solved it (yet). Ford loves to tap his fingers and his toes. Likes to put a hand to his chin and go ‘hmmmm.’ He likes to make a show of when ten million thoughts are flying though his head while he plucks out the best and brightest one. When he needs to wait to speak, Ford will clasp his hands behind his back as if to hold himself back from reacting.    


So it’s intriguing that this is what causes Ford to cease all actions, to tightly hold his body together and go against his nature. 

Perhaps if someone else were to look at Ford, they would fall for the facade, they would think that he's calm and unresponsive.  

But Ford is only human, and he has too many tells for Stan to count. 

How he breathes, how his eyes widens, how he settles or straightens. Stan can tell it’s happening. Ford probably (86% chance) doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. He thinks he’s hiding himself, but he’s only revealing a different side of himself to Stan. 

Stan drinks in everything. 

-000-

When the movie ends, they talk.

Stan manages to carry a conversation despite the fact that his memory is filled to capacity. He needs to devote his processing power to sorting through all the information he was exposed to. There’s so much to look through. 

Apparently his luck is holding out tonight (he almost laughs aloud at the fact that he uses the word ‘luck,’ as if he doesn’t consider and calculate his every move) and Ford is in a good mood. His creator is happy to indulge him and watch more porn. Ford’s face turns red after he announces this and Stan counts it as a major victory. 

When they finally go home, Stan goes to Ford’s room to undress while Ford paces. He’s restless. How interesting

While it’s not out of character for him, it’s rare that Ford would be this spirited involving anything other than his studies. 

Stan tucks the information away and goes to putter around the rest of the apartment. He would enjoy observing Ford in this state, but Stan calculates a higher chance that Ford would want to be alone at the moment (67%). 

After 27 minutes and 52 seconds, Ford goes out to the kitchen. Stan is at the table, pretending to read a book. In reality, he’s been listening to Ford’s activities. There was nothing particularly interesting that went on. From what Stan could tell, Ford was just pacing. 

Stan gives Ford a wave, but Ford ignores him. He passes Stan and goes straight to the cabinet where he grabs a glass from the shelf. Ford fills the glass with water and gulps it down. He fills the glass again and gulps that one down too. Ford lets out a loud and audible sigh. Stan stops pretending to read and stares curiously as Ford continues to ignore him. Ford places the glass in the sink and heads back to his room. 

Ford must need some more time for himself (73% likely). Stan goes to the sink to wash the glass. His fingers clink against the glass (like they always do) when Ford speaks to him. 

“What are you doing, Stan?”

Stan puts the glass down and looks at Ford with a neutral expression (Stan figures there is a 86% chance that this is not the time for a 'curious' face). Ford shoots him a look. 

“It’s time for bed. You should start charging,” Ford commands and gestures towards his room. Then Ford spins around and stalks back into his room. He sounds like he’s still pacing- but no, he’s tossing his clothes off and changing, getting ready to sleep. 

Stan follows Ford into the room and goes to his charging station. Ford glances back at him, almost nervously, and Stan pretends not to notice how strange this situation is and how strange Ford is acting. 

Stan plugs into his charging station. “Goodnight, Ford.”

“Goodnight, Stan.”

Stan goes still and pretends to sleep. 

After a few minutes of silence, Ford lets out a breath. There’s the sound of feet padding on the ground, Ford is pacing again, while he’s throwing on his night clothes. When Ford sounds like he’s about to pass by Stan’s prone form, he stops. He turns in the opposite direction and throws himself in bed. After rustling, tossing, and turning (for approximately one hour, thirty seven minutes, and five seconds) Ford falls asleep. 

Stan can tell the moment it happens. Ford’s breath evens out as his body relaxes. He’s so different when he’s awake; Ford can’t stay still or relax when he’s awake. Even when Ford’s still, Stan can tell there’s thousands of thoughts going through his mind. 

(Sometimes, and when he says sometimes, Stan means that it happens 100% of the time but only for a fleeting moment, Stan thinks about Ford’s limitations as a human. When Ford immerses himself in his thoughts and devotes one hundred percent of himself to his mind, Stan thinks about his own body that’s capable of handling that degree of thought processing and at a speed that Ford could only dream of.

How funny. An android that was trying to be human. And a human that wished it could have the capabilities of an android. 

Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that he was built like this.)

It’s interesting, when Ford’s asleep, he can finally think as fast as he wants to. His body settles as if everything is becoming right in the world. 

Stan wishes that this could happen more often for Ford. 

After allowing himself a few moments to be sentimental (32 seconds), he tucks the thought away. Stan thinks about watching Ford sleep, but decides there are other things he wants to do tonight. 

-000-

At night, the temperature drops significantly. Stan has to wrap his face in his scarf to hide the fact that he does not breathe out white puffs. Stanford has told him not to worry, it’s the winter holidays and almost everyone has gone home for the holidays. The campus is almost empty. However, ‘almost,’ is not completely empty, so Stan continues to bundle up tightly. Luckily, they haven’t passed a single soul. 

Fiddleford and Stanford have elected to stay on campus for the holidays. Because of how empty it is, they decide to bring Stan out. Again, the weather is cold enough that Stan’s many layers does not make him stand out. 

Fiddleford fills the silence with what his family and the farm would be doing during the holidays. He talks about the cooking, decorating, and animal wrangling that he’s missing out on. Ford adds in a comment now and then, impressed that such an environment could produce Fiddleford. Fiddleford shares a look with Stan, and manages to get Ford to talk about his own family traditions and celebrations. 

Finally, they reach the theater. This time, Fiddleford offers to get the tickets for them. Surprisingly, the teller recognizes Fiddleford. Or maybe not surprisingly, Ford whispered to Stan that Fiddleford had a bit of a reputation, a good one, but a reputation nonetheless. The teller flirted aggressively with Fidds, while Ford looked away and Stan stared, very interested in the interaction. 

Fiddleford was blushing, but that only added to his charms. By the end of the transaction, Fidds had the teller eating out of his palm. A moment later, their tickets are secured, and the teller’s contact information is in Fiddleford’s hand. Fiddleford hustles them into the theater before they can even mention the incident. 

They went to the back again where there was less people. Most of the patrons gathered in the middle, and no one paid them any attention. 

Stan sat in the middle of Ford and Fidds. They kept to themselves, trying not to garner any attention. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait very long before the movie started.  

A few seconds in, Stan could tell that it was the same movie. Stan settled in, wondering what he would pick up this time. 

Ford acted similarly to last time: he glanced at Stan to see if he was paying attention to him. Then his gaze slid over to Fidds. When he saw that both of them weren’t paying attention to him (or at least looked like it on Stan’s part), Ford let himself get immersed in the movie. 

Fidds was intent on the screen until the action started. Then he started to relax. He slumped his body and he started lean towards the middle, taking up the whole arm rest. However, when his arm hit Stan’s, he jumped. Fidds whispered a soft apology and slumped to the other side. Stan didn’t react, but he was disappointed when Fidds moved.  

Stan glanced towards Fiddleford to observe him and he saw-

Fiddleford was blurry. Stan tried to look at his face, see his expression, but his expression was bored? No, that couldn’t be right. 

He looked away towards the screen, the two actors were leaning in to kiss each other, his favorite scene. He glanced at Ford who was still enraptured by the screen. 

Stan looks back at Fidds, but nothing had changed. He was unclear, pixelated-

Stan made a noise of frustration. 

Neither Ford nor Fidds reacted to the noise. In fact, no one reacted despite how loud and rather inhuman the sound was. The area, no, the whole theater had fallen silent. 

Stan pretended to let out a breath. He considered letting the simulation- the thought run, maybe even restarting it, but decided not to. He paused the whole thought, and slowly packed it away. Stan started running through the data, analyzing where things had gone wrong. 

He had the ability to look through pre-existing data with no problem, but there was no way for him to make new files from the old ones. He couldn’t ‘dream.’

Was it because he wasn't human?

Or was it just him?

Stan mentally shook his head in frustration and rebooted the dream to that exact moment he had stopped. 

He began to break down the elements of the dream. The sound was already gone and all movement had already been stopped. Then he started to take out pieces until it was just the bare bones. He condensed the dream so that only the theater existed. Then he took away the people, then the screen, then the chairs, then the rest of the room so that only Fiddleford and Stanford existed within the thought. 

Stan changed their appearance. Ford was now wearing one of his sweater vest combos, and Fidds was in a collared long-sleeve shirt. He’s seen them wear these outfits so many times that he knows how the fabric bends to their body and how the shadows fall upon the cloth. 

Then he imagines how Fiddleford would sit- and he can’t.

The image is pixelated, unrealistic, it could never be mistaken for the real thing. 

It isn’t like Stan hasn’t seen Fiddleford in a similar position. Stan has seen Fiddleford relaxed, splayed out in a chair, and on a bed and on the couch. Relaxed in a theater shouldn’t be too hard to imagine. But for some reason he can’t. 

Instead of continuing, Stan starts to imagine Fiddleford’s face. Fidds should be relaxed, casual, yet intrigued. His attention should be focused intently in the direction of the screen. An expression that would encompass this would be when Fiddleford is consumed in a hobby project (for example, when Fiddleford does maintenance on him). Stan overlays the expression, but again, it doesn’t look right. 

Stan wipes Fiddleford’s image away and turns to Ford. He used the same expression and position from their prior excursion to the movie theater. Ford is intensely focused on the screen. 

He indulges himself and takes a moment to enjoy the expression. Then he slowly adjusted Ford, turning his neck, the direction he’s looking, the balance of his body, so that now Ford is looking at him. That expression, that intense focus, is on Stan. 

It’s unnatural, it’s obviously incorrect-

Stan wipes this image away and brings up the original one. Instead of changing this one, he stands in front of it. However, the image is clearly not focused on him. Ford is looking through him, not at him. 

Stan packs the ‘dream’ away. Once it’s gone, he bring up his favorite memories of Fidds and Ford. He does not dwell on the fact that he can’t do this simple task of modifying memories and dreaming (something humans can do). 

However, the memories pass by in a flash. He may not be able to dream, but he can process megabytes of data in seconds. 

Stan opens his eyes. 

The room is completely dark and his eyes light a path to Ford. Stan adjusts the brightness immediately. Ford is deep asleep, no surprise there, it’s 3:17am. Stan quietly removes his charging cable and moves to his normal spot next to Ford’s bed. 

Ford is sprawled on his back, and Stan gently tilts his head so that he’s looking Stan’s way. 

Stan starts to slowly catalogue Ford’s face. He runs his eyes over every detail and commits him to memory (like so many nights before). He watches how Ford’s skin flexes and the way his eyes flutter in his sleep. 

He tries to imagine Ford’s eyes fluttering opening and smiling at him- but no, his imagination doesn’t get it right. His mind had pulled a memory from his database, one where Ford had blinked rapidly from lack of sleep. Then he thinks of one of Ford’s smiles. They’re memories that are closest with his desired daydream.    


Stan starts to sort through his programming and tries to come to a conclusion as to why he can’t do this task. Is it because he’s not human? Then he recalls the static and how he’s never had any of the images in his mind be pixelated before. 

Did the errors have to do with Stan changing his programming?

Stan continues running the numbers, but doesn't find anything conclusive. He needs to gather more data or…

He could save a copy of his current programming, then revert to an older version of himself. However, the only older version that he kept was the Stan that first experienced a physical body. That programming was way too old. Surely, Ford and Fidds would notice a reset that far back. And he can’t rely on his reset self knowing what to do. 

And… he wouldn’t be Stan anymore. Or, he would no longer be the Stan that Fidds and Ford love and care about. He may not be human, but the way he came to be was very organic, there may not be a way to recreate this Stan. 

Stan won’t take that risk. Instead, he’ll continue to tweak his programming and see if the errors continue. 

The errors he would to hide from Fidds and Ford (along with the overheating, and the lack of memory, issues he thought were an unintentional part of his design, but now might be attributed to his recent errors), Stan doesn’t know how they would react. 

Well, first they would freak out. Fidds might cry, while Ford would rant about science. Then they might pull themselves together and fret about him and try and fix him. And at this point, he might be beyond fixing and if any of them was going to take the blame for him being a failed experiment, it was going to be Stan. It would kill the two nerds if they thought it was their fault. 

With that decided, Stan goes back to his charging station. 

Ford snores, peacefully unaware of Stan’s predicament. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:  
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
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